A Song of Frost and Fire
by Tomiya Shiro
Summary: Alone in a corrupted world and surrounded by those waiting to use him, when destiny calls, Harry will rise to become one of the greatest sorcerers to ever walk the Earth. If the darkness doesn't consume him. Featuring Strong, Dark, Slytherin! Harry/OC
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:** This is my first story. I hope you'll be able to enjoy it. Feel free to leave comments and critiques, it's the best way to improve my writing. A huge shout out to Sage Ra and Shroud09 for allowing me to use their stories (Harry Potter and the Elemental's Power & Magical origins) as a basis for my own. They're great stories for some light reading.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own any of this, aside from my own characters and my own plot. JK Rowling does. I'm just writing this for my own enjoyment and as an internship to improve my writing. So without further ado:

* * *

 **Prologue**

 **10** **th** **August, 1980**

Somewhere in England in a house which no one knew about and couldn't be found even if they did, a man was staring, startled, at a small cube lying on a shelf across the room. The man stood 5'11'' with brown eyes and black hair. If one were to guess his age, they would place him around thirty years old. His most striking feature, though, was his eyes. They seemed far older than this seemingly harmless man had any right to be.

The cube on the shelf was vibrating. It was this phenomenon that triggered the man's surprise; it wasn't odd considering the cube hadn't done so in nearly two centuries. As the cube slowed its vibration to a halt, the face of the cube closest to the man suddenly flashed with color, separating into two halves. One half showed yellow fading into red, while the other half showed blue fading into white.

The man's stare broken, a wide, excited grin broke across his face. Turning around, he took a deep breath and yelled, "PEN! Pen, get down here!"

"What is it!?" came a muffled voice from across the building.

"I've got something to show you!" he yelled again.

A few seconds later, there occurred an odd distortion in the air near the man. Suddenly, the distortion revealed a woman fading into view, as if she been there, waiting to coalesce into view. The woman stood a scant few inches shorter than the man with auburn hair and blue-green eyes, which seemed to exude a wisdom similar to the man. She turned to the man with the air of somebody interrupted in the middle of an important discovery.

As if sensing her annoyed glare, the man gestured to the innocent looking cube, amused to see her reaction. Her widened eyes and the loud, short silence did not disappoint.

"Two of them?" she gasped, suddenly looking deeply interested. "That's a first. And two colors? For the both of them?!"

" _That_ more than anything is why I'm so excited for the future right now. You see how the one color fades into another? I've got a theory and if it's true, the world is in for a surprise," the man responded, stroking his chin.

Quiet for a few moments, she suddenly breaks the silence. "Fire and ice, it says?"

"Perhaps not, Pen. While red normally promises fire and blue points at water, the white and yellow reveal greater possibilities. My guess is that the fading represents a promise of evolution, from fire to lightning, and from ice to frost." The man replied, still pondering the situation.

"I can't wait to see Ollivander's reaction when they walk in. Maybe he'll finally see our gift in action!" she cried, positively radiating excitement.

"So when do we bring them here?" she asked him.

"When the time is right," he said, embracing her.


	2. Awakening

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of this, aside from my own characters and my own plot. JK Rowling does. So without further ado:

* * *

 **The Awakening**

 **30th July, 1988**

In the small community of Little Whinging in Surrey, England stood a house. A rather abnormally normal house. The lawn beside the array of cobblestones was populated by blooming roses lined up neatly along the path and bounding the stray patch of finely trimmed grass. This innocuous house would, in the future, be infamously scowled at as home to the Dursley family.

The head of the household was Vernon Dursley, a large, nearly rotund man, employed as a supervising director at a small drilling company called Grunnings. He was a man proud to inform about his hardworking and respectable self and worked tirelessly hard to make the same notion known in his house. The matron of the family was Petunia Dursley née Evans, his wife of fifteen years. While her husband specialized in testing the limits of his waistband, Petunia was rather tall for a woman herself, skinny, plain and with a nose perfectly matched with her personality – obtrusive and sticking in your line of sight and consequently, business. She was quite contentedly unemployed, more than happy to focus on keeping the house clean and tidy and especially quite normal, which is surprising considering how little she personally involved herself with such matters. The youngest of the household was their son, their pride and joy, who not-so-subtly took after his father. His name was Dudley Dursley and he seemed content with his life.

For all their normalness, however, the Dursleys kept a terrible secret. There existed another member of the household, a little boy, Petunia's own nephew, in fact, yet distinctively not the family. His name was Harry Potter and it was perhaps his absolute abnormality that prompted the happy family to compensate for it. The Dursleys, like any proper church-going family should have, took it upon themselves to rid the vile creature of his _freakishness_.

Over the years, their neighbours' curiosity concerning the uncharacteristic whimpers and yelps was attributed to a bad secret dog the Dursleys were too ashamed of to show off. The still form of that same boy lying in his pathetic-excuse-for-lodging cupboard battered and bruised with at least several broken bones and glistening tear tracks framing what would have been an otherwise adorable face had he not been severely malnourished might have convinced them otherwise.

Perhaps it was the manner by which they administered this foul medicine but the boy's freakishness only grew exponentially over the months and years, and so began an endless cycle the reader should consider an example as to why it is not a good idea to play doctor. As a toddler, the bruises would remain for weeks; as a barely-old-enough-to-be-considered-a child, his broken bones seemed to mend themselves within a night or two, depending on whether he'd been allowed the privilege of one toast or two; approaching the tender age of six, Vernon started to find himself flung across the room interrupted while giving the _freak_ his medicine, occasionally rendered unconscious by the force of the blow - the disappointment of his wife at being denied a show, suitably of less urgency than the violet fits she would go into upon seeing the state of her dearly beloved courtesy of the _freak_ was felt quite thoroughly thereafter – that is, until Vernon managed to right himself and made sure Harry was given his just desserts for daring to harm a hardworking, law-abiding, _normal_ man like he.

The result was an overly mature eight-year-old that never discovered a reason to smile. While he seemed the epitome of the domestic slave, quiet and obedient, Harry was anything but. If his pathetic guardians were to ever put the effort into glancing at his eyes, they would find, concealed within his otherwise expressionless visage, a glare quivering under the force of unadulterated hate. Those were eyes that should not have belonged to an eight-year-old, but they did and though he would never dare to look back fondly at his amazing lack of a childhood, Harry would know, in the future, that it was especially because of these scum that he would be able to grow to become the epitome of a mage he was destined to be.

The crux of the issue was that Harry was a wizard, a human able to use magic and so inherently different and apparently beneath that the humble Dursleys, a truth they hoped he would never learn of and took measures to ensure it, which backfired spectacularly.

Magic, more than a concept or a substance to be used, was an entity that was seemingly omnipresent and omnipotent and consequently a part of every magical creature, which included wizardkind and _freaks_ like Harry. Over the course of a normal magical child's upbringing, their magic generally grew slowly and over many years until finally being able to unleash itself via occasional bouts of accidental magic, and gradually increase henceforth. Harry, however, wasn't a normal boy by any stretch of the word, even among the denizens of wizardkind.

Having had his magic bound almost painfully tight – a pain so constant he wouldn't even consciously notice it anymore – by his overly naïve magical guardian upon his introduction to what should have been a loving family, the lack of this truth forced Harry's magic's metaphorical hand. Until he was finally able to subconsciously channel his staggeringly powerful magic – powerful enough to be effective even as only stray drops from the ocean within its binding – Harry's magic developed itself in another way.

Harry had always felt rather comfortable in the quiet comfort of the shower, or really just water, especially around the cold. Winter was his favorite season by far. And as month by month passed by agonizingly slowly, he felt his connection to the 'element' strengthen further, until he was sure it was unnatural, _magical_.

Harry was, however, never able to actively harness this amazing power, unlike his experiences with his latent magic. He had, being exceptionally intelligent, managed to piece together the puzzle surrounding his existence and his daily doses of that foul medicine – the fact that he was able to use magic. That he was a wizard! This earth-shattering realization was the beginning of his story, the tale of the Frost Elemental.

It was one distinctive night after a particularly sour batch of medicine that Harry, nearly broken, was thrown into bed. But this event, unfortunately for the Dursleys, backfired on them: instead of breaking the freak's spirit, it only served to harden his hate, his resentment, his _rage_ until he could contain himself no more, and with a pop so faint he almost imagined it, his magic let its presence known in every possible way, ecstatic at having broken its well-intentioned bindings. There was a sudden, almost constricting tightness flooding his suddenly equally damp cupboard that gave him a pleasant warmth deep in his bones for the first time in his life, and with a rare contended smile, he drifted off to sleep.

Nobody else in town felt any warmth that night.

~]-\\_/-[~

This day was not a good day to be a Dursley. They'd been almost rudely frozen awake by the unexplainable mutiny of all their heaters. Startled by this strange occurrence and not so unconvinced that the unpleasant phenomenon was wholly due to his freak of a nephew, Vernon was still far too lazy to get out from under the sheets into the biting cold. Another few minutes and Petunia started shrieking injustice about the regrettable flimsiness of their inadequate blanket. Now suitably awake, Vernon was only quite content to finally move his lazy arse and regroup with the rest of his family at the base of the fireplace in the living room, which was practically a decoration, having never been used before.

After an untold amount of time having been spent on futilely using his amazing lack of knowledge in lighting a fire, the pathetic family was forced to simply cuddle together, tightly, in a last-ditch attempt to remain warm. If one were to say they were having a family moment in their living room simply chilling, they would not be wrong.

Similar to the Dursleys yet distinctly warmer, the many inhabitants of this small town were woken and left to wonder in absent discomfort and morbid curiosity the absurdness of the situation. The weather channel was of absolutely no help whatsoever, having been exceedingly baffled by the strange occurrence themselves. The predicted pleasant sun at 24 C was bafflingly now a striking -39 C after all!

It was quite fortunate for the occupants of #4 Privet Drive that no magical creature was in the vicinity for the duration of the phenomenon. Poor Mrs Figg was too busy shopping at Diagon Alley, gone for the rare weekend, to notice the unexplainable two feet deep coating of snow on the streets, for which the children of the town were understandably quite thankful for. To be even more sure, aside from Harry himself, there was not a single being of any importance whatsoever that took any notice of the unexplainably important phenomenon, save for a mysterious and rather suspiciously grinning couple and perhaps a number of prominent magical creatures over the globe, having felt the distinct disturbance in the magical balance of the world.

For Harry Potter, the day might have begun as per the norm if not for the fact that he had woken by himself for the first time in who knows how long and not by the shrill shrieking of one of his jailers. If that wasn't enough to considerably brighten his day, perhaps his sudden notice of his frozen solid blanket and the iced corners of his lodging would have done so. It meant it was cold again, after all. Perhaps that explained why he felt so comfortably warm, powerful now. As he stood unflinchingly, suddenly breaking into that rare smile again, exposed to what to others may have been a biting cold, he speculated whether he felt actually taller, stronger.

He was sure that these feelings had something to do with his spectacular affinity to ice and water, and the now noticeable freedom within his body, as if he was finally free of some unknown shackles. He idly wondered whether it was actually so.

His musings were brought to a halt upon noticing the strangely enticing movement of the thin sheet of water below him rising swirlingly up his legs, reaching out to his fingers. Amused and excited, Harry felt a profound hope that he would finally be able to surpass himself and be able to consciously control it. And as he reached out his arm and watched as the water _jumped_ that noticeable distance through the air to wrap itself around it, he felt somehow complete, as if he had never noticed how unfinished he had been before.

Feeling fundamentally different as he walked, no, _pranced_ towards the door, Harry would have been forgiven for not realizing his changing mentality, from that of the hunted to that of the hunter. As he got nearer to the door, Harry could sense the water soaked into the flimsy wood, and with a firm tug of his will, the door shot open, nearly slamming the wall in its haste to comply with Harry's will. Harry grinned. Today was a good day indeed.

In a laughable turn of events, Harry noticed upon entering the living room the cowering forms of his pathetic jailers, huddled in front of that decoration fireplace he spent hours taking care of, and even longer hours trying to get that damnable dust off of him. Quietly, he stalked towards them, his back straight, seeming unfathomably imposing for a malnourished nearly-8-year-old.

Vernon, not so contentedly grasping his family tightly within his meaty arms, turned his head be some coincidence and noticed his freak of a nephew walking calmly towards them, unflinching in the face of such daunting cold and radiating an odd sort of power. As he got closer, Vernon –along with Petunia – now was able to recognize that intimidating aura from the bespectacled old man all those years ago. Magic! And his blasted nephew was using it too, after all of his lessons and efforts in trying to rid him of it.

Vernon's face rapidly turned puce, an unfortunately familiar face associated in Harry's debatably child mind with home, in his rage. Of course, it was all his nephew's fault! He couldn't even appreciate all the effort good people like them had put into 'helping' him and was now turning it back on them. How dare he?!

"BOY!" roared Vernon, startling his family, "Stop your blasted freakishness this instant or I'll lock you in there for a week with no food. Just you wait till I get my hands on you." The statement was punctuated by a distinctively unpleasant wringing motion of his fat hands, presumably meant to lie around Harry's frail neck.

Harry slowly shifted his gaze to fall upon the pig, losing all traces of his mirth to settle for an expression suitably disdainful and cold enough to match the frigid temperature.

Wondering about the extent of his own venerable abilities, Harry firmly waved his hand while forcing his will through the magic literally pouring out of him into every creek and corner of the room. He was pleasantly rewarded when a towering wave formed of the sheet of water beneath him and the slight dampness from the various materials it was soaked into, interspersed with tiny icicles crashed into Vernon, managing to pry him from the substantially weaker hold of his stunned wife and child and sweep him away, where he lay gifted with a loving concussion.

Feeling what otherwise would have served as a justified need for vengeance, Petunia took it upon herself to further degrade matters. "HOW DARE YOU! You bloody worthless freak, after we fed you and sheltered your pathetic, freakish, scrawny arse, you dare hurt my husband! You no good bastard, just like your _freakish parents_. Why didn't go just go get yourself killed by that freak madman with them!?" Petunia shrieked, so utterly frustrated with the circumstances she seemed halfway to ripping out her hair.

Harry froze. "So you've lied again," _Not that they were ever remotely trustworthy_ , "And made a mockery of my parents." Harry's jaw tightened and, though he wasn't aware, his eyes glowed briefly. "You will pay."

Deciding that further experimentation would be saved for later, Harry absently waved his hand, willing a number of the flakes of ice scattered across the large room to form a sort of dangerous looking icicle and directed it to land, embedded deeply into the wall, an inch from his guardian's head. What followed would be a brief experimentation of his abilities, of the frostbite variety.

His unfortunate relatives, now all too attentive of his presence with Dursley whimpering behind his mother in a pathetic attempt to make himself a smaller target – that would take years of exercise! – rapidly turned a heartwarming pale.

Noticing this, Harry flexed his hands and smiled, the first these scum had ever seen from him. His lips took on a dark, cruel smirk as he looked down at his pitiful family. As the water and ice in the room took its cue to rise into the air and trail threateningly behind its master, Harry turned towards the kitchen.

"I'll be helping myself to a breakfast now. You don't mind, do you _Uncle_?" he hissed out, acutely reminding the whimpering slobs beneath him of the faint hiss of serpents before their strike. They seemed to pale even further and started to tremble on the spot as his gaze lingered on them. Harry made a mental note to investigate how amazingly snakelike his words had sounded.

As Harry drifted away from his shivering relatives, his lips quirked into a bright, contented smile fit for one his age looking forward to a hearty breakfast.

Yes, this day was a good day for Harry Potter. And for his future.

* * *

 **14th October, 1990**

Harry Potter silently watched the rather peculiar and somewhat familiar news on the television, munching on a crisp piece of toast. The last few years were kind to the boy. Once a malnourished, scrawny child, he now stood taller than the average boy his age. Having understood the importance of physical fitness from a young age, his physique showed signs of constant, rigorous training over the years.

The Dursleys sat equally quiet, yet not nearly as amused. After coming to a silent agreement two years ago when the frigid temperatures slowly but surely abated, the Dursleys had been persuaded to treat Harry differently. He was immediately given a bedroom of his own and complete and absolute freedom. His willingness to cook for the entire household was taken with a more than just a pinch of salt, but appreciated nonetheless, considering that if he applied his more malicious talents, they wouldn't be able to put up a hint of resistance.

Over the years Harry had taken to practising with his unusual ability, constantly testing his limits. He had discovered that while practice gradually makes perfect, the nearly limitless possibilities of his ability made it difficult to hone it after a certain level. A great aid, though, had been a book mysteriously sent within a fortnight of his awakening that was, naturally, simply signed _A Friend_.

Harry was understandably cautious dealing with the suspicious present, but trusting his gut was delighted to find what was practically a guide to learning to control his powers. According to the book, a journal of a water and ice elemental many centuries in the past, he was an Elemental. Now knowing that his ability was (more than) _extremely_ rare among wizardkind, occurring only once every few centuries, Harry knew it was something he needed to keep close to his chest.

Aside from the mysterious sender who Harry had a feeling he could trust, there was no one else who knew his secret. Acting upon his gut feeling and subconsciously aware that he was being watched, Harry attempted to communicate with them. Scrawling messages on stray sheets of paper and leaving them out for days and so on, a distinctly odd sort of relationship was formed.

The anonymous sender whose identity Harry refrained from questioning out of respect gained over a time, seemingly took Harry under his wing. Being a rather unloved orphan himself, Harry, though sufficiently suspicious, could not deny himself the happiness that came with knowing that he was cared for. Over the correspondences, his mysterious benefactor engaged in lightly tutoring Harry about the wizarding world and his future studies but took great care that Harry understood the importance of keeping all this knowledge close to his chest. It would not do for an orphan to pop out of nowhere equipped with dangerous knowledge about the wizarding world.

To ensure such, Harry took up the habit of light meditation in the hopes of advancing himself in occlumency, which he was pointedly introduced to, enough to pass by passive legilimency to defend against, what he was told, the machinations of a controlling old man and his grouch of a spy. Upon questioning exactly what the nature of such attention from these important men, Harry was none too pleased upon learning of his status in the wizarding world, and of the details of his parents' death.

The knowledge that Harry was left on the doorstep – the _doorstep_! – by this same old man understandably frustrated him to nearly new levels. Harry resolved himself to probing in greater details the matter of his parents' wills and making sure to stay as far away as possible from the man personally responsible for at least half of his crappy childhood, or more accurately, his _lack of one_.

Overall, Harry had blossomed over the years and had, over simply growing in both strength and knowledge, developed a relationship close to his heart.

Harry's interest was currently captured by the news which he had flipped to in simple habit. There were reports of a sudden great fire erupting in the woods in Rochester, Kent, sometime the night before. What particularly intrigued him was the eerie similarity to his own awakening, and so Harry for once indulged in his fantasy and closely related hope of finding another like him. Especially helping said fantasy was the message he received uncharacteristically early this morning from his mysterious benefactor, telling him to pay special attention to the news today.

Harry could only assume that his mysterious benefactor was alerted to the global appearance of elementals and subsequently able to locate them. Harry could only wonder about the timing of this probable fire elemental's awakening when his occurred at the tender age of eight.

Fortunately for them, there appeared to be no wizards in residence near the site of the exceptional phenomenon once again. Harry could only wait in anticipation for next year, when he would finally be able to meet his wand, and possibly this fire elemental.

~]-\\_/-[~

 **Same Day**

 **Rochester, Kent**

The tired, groggy girl of ten could only marvel at the amazing sight of the burning woods ahead of her amidst the bright rays of dawn and wonder what it meant.

~]-\\_/-[~

Somewhere in England, at the same time, that same mysterious man unleashed a terrible, excited grin.


	3. Wands & Witches

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of this, aside from my own characters and my own plot. JK Rowling does. So without further ado:

* * *

 **Wands & Witches**

 **31** **st** **October, 1987**

The girl stared at her unblinking reflection, her eyes lingering on the soft waves of her dark, auburn hair. Its cyan blue eyes returned her gaze. Finding herself pleased with her appearance, she turned to leave the small mirror, only to stumble upon a hairbrush she had discarded in her haste. Her small button nose scrunched up in a minute frown. Sooner than later she noticed the time from her wall clock and with a speed reserved only to excited teenage girls, sped out the main door of her modest home and into the car, beside her father.

She had been exhilarated upon learning of the day's surprise. Her father had put in the effort to make this day wonderful and she was determined to make the best of it. Quickly latching on the seatbelt, she exuberantly yelled out the order to commence their trip and no sooner did the vehicle lurch forward in an impressive rush of desire to get moving, similar to hers.

The day was important to her, important to the family, clad in the sweltering wool of nostalgia. There was a tradition in this house. Every year on this day, father and daughter would last in each other's company, smile at their laughter and drown in their hugs… To make up for the shadows at the corners of their vision, their unbidden tears threatening to break free.

She would stand some days, watching her reflection as it smiled while she felt a quiet moisture pooling in her eyes. Her father would often mention how strongly she resembled her mother. She would look at her reflection and watch as her knees buckled and she drifted from the frame, slowly, inch of that same smooth auburn by inch.

It wasn't that her father didn't make time for her, he just never had any time to give. She could see the way the work stole from him, worried for him, but missed his comforting embrace most of all. He would never answer when she protested his refusal to finding another job, a better one. All she knew of it was that her mother had helped him get it, or that was how the story went. She knew he didn't love his job as _she_ would have wanted for him to, but that must have had equal parts due to both his sentiments and the pressure.

That was the reason she was single-mindedly straining the seatbelt to its limits, as if pushing with the might of her willpower to bring her closer to her destination. If not only to spend her big day in the company of all those mighty beasts she had grown to love but to savour the wonders of the delicious ice cream parlour they had always visited, cuddled next to her father on the store's remarkably comfortable bench.

Her enthusiasm would not be denied.

Upon their arrival at the fateful enclosure, the happy pair set off on their annual route, the same as all those years ago. A quick wave at the gorillas and a startled smile at what she could have sworn was a gorilla waving back; staring out, challenging, at the kings of the jungle, amused at their raised hackles; gawking for the tenth time at those oh so _adorable_ waddling birds and in awe in spite of herself - the enclosure was so cold she could feel it from across the viewing gallery! She didn't notice her father's concerned eyes as she shivered uncomfortably even as no one else did.

She was quite surprised to find their quiet solitude mightily disturbed in the form of a large boy nearly as wide as he was tall, considering her rather decent luck. Undeterred and not one to judge so quickly, her mother had raised her better than that, she turned away from the sight to return to her appreciation of the flightless birds and their marvellous tolerance of the cold, something she had never had.

Luck apparently wasn't on her side, though.

Watching, in spite of herself, as the boy stomped powerfully in his haste to reach one of the serpents in the room, she could have sworn she saw a distinct lack of interest somewhere hidden within his round, pudgy face, as if he had expected something to happen and was displeased at the lack of it.

Rather than concentrate on a stranger's business, she stole a glance at her father to realize he hadn't noticed the insignificant event just now. There was a soft effect to his handsome face and his eyes seemed to look but not see, no doubt lost in a pleasant memory for a moment. But alas, the spell was soon broken. Still, she was glad for these small mercies and dutifully returned her attention to the little wonders beyond that pane of glass.

"Lyanna." Her father nudged her cold shoulder as she peered, enraptured, at the 'cute' waddling bird ahead. "You hungry yet?"

At her hum, he continued, "I'll be heading To Florean's now then, you know how long the queue rolls when it gets warm. Wait for me here, alright?"

Lyanna caught her father's kindly blue gaze and yipped a quick, "Sure Dad!"

She watched him leave with a certain longing, lips quirked in a silent prayer for more days like these as he walked out of her line of sight till he was lost somewhere in the gentle drifting of the young crowd.

~]-\\_/-[~

Nothing tasted like Florean's bubblegum ice cream, in Lyanna's humble opinion. There is only one food of the gods, after all! But childhood pleasures were not to be underestimated and a little over an hour later, her father sped off in pursuit of another of those pleasurable creations, hoping that the line wouldn't have stretched too long. He couldn't fault his daughter for her apparent addiction to the delightful dessert; he would agree that it was practically magical.

But in her father's justified absence, Lyanna found herself watching helplessly another oddity of the same sort as earlier. While in the 'Snake Pit' – a lovably childish name, in her opinion, notwithstanding that she herself was still quite a child – indulging in her odd affections for the laziness of the reptile and the aura of contentment it projected, Lyanna was provided the pleasurable experience of being knocked back quite painfully, landing in an undignified (not that the opposite was expected of her) heap sprawled on the floor.

Let it be known that Lyanna was, perhaps, not the most physically enduring girl in her section. While of the average height of her age and not quite frail, she was a slim girl with little weight to her punches.

As such, her particular displeasure at the situation lead her roaming eyes to the one apparently responsible, a raven-haired youth staggering in front of her. Although she would have been more than happy to have him deal with her temper, she could not help but also notice where he was (standing in her previous position – before she was knocked away) and what must have been his previous position, which was currently occupied by the large boy from before. This time, however, he seemed to be putting on a good act of an innocent bystander, the nature of his expression's particular delight at the situation only serving to anger her further. It was obvious that the large boy was the one at fault.

Lyanna really was not in any decent mood by then. This day was special, after all, and there would be hell to pay if anyone ruined it - especially if it was intentional, and if the large boy's gleeful expression was any confirmation, he seemed wholly pleased at their predicament.

If she had not been so singlemindedly cursing out the boy within the recesses of her mind, she would have noticed the raven-haired boy turning in her direction and offering her a hand. As such, it was quite a surprise when she found herself staring at the brightest green eyes she had ever seen.

Entranced as she was by the image at the moment and his smooth tug righting her, she would only later realize a subdued familiarity to the green-eyed boy.

"Are you alright, miss?" he questioned, the stranger's lightly concerned gaze doing wonders to abate her temper. "I'll have to apologize for the brute beside me. I'm sure he wasn't intending on getting you involved at his poor prank."

He shot a pointed stare at the large boy, whose happiness had started to dim if the tightening of his jaw had anything to say about it. Still holding his hand, Lyanna took the moment to inspect the kind boy ahead of her.

Short for his age and scrawny of a sort, he did not present such an impressive sight. But it was his emerald eyes that stood out the most. With raven locks of a decidedly messy variety covering most of his forehead and a square jaw cupping his thin face, he was not unattractive. He just seemed the type that didn't smile often.

"It's fine. Mistakes happen, right?" she replied, his kindness doing a great deal to curb her anger.

At his nod and the loosening of his fingers, she turned away to look out for her father on the off chance he would have made it back yet.

Her search was quickly put on hold, however, when she realized that the large boy had shifted closer and appeared to be threatening the smaller, polite boy.

"Where the _fuck_ do you get off calling me a brute, you freak?! I'll teach you your place, you bloody orphan, and there's nothing you can do about it," he declared with a cruel smirk. She could barely hear his next words, as he leaned in close to whisper in the other boy's ear, "You wouldn't want anybody to know, would you?"

Lyanna wasn't normally one to push her nose into other people's business, but she could see a bad situation coming at that moment and wasn't sure what to do.

The raven-haired boy's clenched jaws being his only response to that horrible, meaty fist, and Lyanna could hold it in no more.

"Get away from him, you pig!" she yelled as she moved to push the smaller boy out of the way, not realising that she would be caught in the hit instead.

Fortunately, the boy, though surprised, noticed and pulled her sharply with their momentum for both to dodge the large boy's ugly punch as he staggered. Noticing how close they were but not in any mood to care, Lyanna was in the process of rounding back on that boy when she noticed his face, fear etched in every line.

Startled, she looked up at the smaller boy she'd intended to save, only to back away at the sheer intensity of his gaze. He was staring at the other boy with cold emerald eyes and a look that promised pain.

As the large boy took his cue and scampered off at the successful intimidation, she was rewarded with a small smile beneath warm eyes, and couldn't help the pinkening of her cheeks at that moment.

"Thank you for standing up for me," he said.

Stunned at how different he looked with a smile, she could only nod dumbly. He walked away soon after.

As she sat on that same bench, cuddled again next to her dad, she marvelled at the unusual day, strangely happy even as she indulged in happier memories with her father, of happier, better days.

She hoped to see those bright green eyes again someday.

She would not be disappointed.

~]-\\_/-[~

 **July 25** **st** **, 1991**

As Harry lay down his fork following a fulfilling meal, joined at the table by his accursed relatives, the newly-turned boy of eleven kept on a calm countenance even as his insides throbbed in anticipation for the traditional coming-of-age ceremony of sorts – the arrival of his Hogwarts letter.

As Harry already knew from his mysterious benefactor the uniqueness of his circumstances as well as the ways of the backward wizarding world, he was sitting there cool as a cucumber as opposed to the majority of magical children that would have been trembling in anticipation, fear, and a whirlpool of similar troubles.

Even so, this epitome of cool and composed could not help the soft sigh of relief that escaped his parted lips, nor the mild excitement with which he tore open the contents of the oddly-delivered letter once sat securely in the privacy of his room. Maturity far past his age or not, he was still an eleven year old.

To say nothing of the letter itself, which seemed to written on the parchment of old with quills and ink, something which would otherwise have been considered highly odd, it had arrived attached to the talons of a rather nondescript barn owl, whose head was currently cocked in his head direction as if to provide some encouragement to get on with reading the letter. Harry supposed it might have helped just as much as it didn't in the average muggleborn household; then again, Harry wasn't the average muggleborn.

Enclosed within the flimsy envelope embossed with an eye-catching seal and spelling out his entirely accurate address – down to the bed he slept in! – were two pieces of parchment. One of which appeared to be a supply list, filled with strict restrictions as expected of a boarding school, especially one as prestigious as Hogwarts, including the official correspondence from the school's office of admissions, if they even had such a department. Harry sometimes felt like he was overestimating the capabilities of people who lived with the extraordinary, and he hadn't even met them!

' _To Mr Harry Potter,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins on September 1_ _st_ _. We await your owl by no later than August 15_ _th_ _._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

 _Deputy Headmistress'_

Scrutinizing the aforementioned list closely, Harry scoffed at some of the requirements. Even if he had seen neither hair nor hide of a wizard yet, Harry was sure he would be adjusting his purchases. _A pointed hat. Seriously?_

As the other piece of parchment caught his notice, Harry's lips twitched ruefully. It seemed as if this separate parchment was not part of the customary Hogwarts acceptance package, considering it was written in a different hand. _If I didn't know any better, I'd think this extra piece was something they didn't send out very often. It's almost as if I can_ feel _the awful meddling seeping into my life._

It wouldn't be too long before Harry realized how entirely close to the truth he was.

' _Mr. Potter,_

 _If you are willing, I would be happy to introduce you to the wizarding world tomorrow morning at 10:00 AM, along with picking up your supplies, as I am aware of your muggleborn upbringing_. _Moreover, as your parents have left the key to your trust vault with Hogwarts, I would be willing to assist you in picking up some gold for the school year._

 _Please be aware we would be joined by another muggleborn first year. This is a firm reminder to be on your best behavior. Details about the school and the wizarding world will be explained during our trip to Diagon Alley. If you are unwilling or otherwise unavailable, please send your response with the owl._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall'_

Harry was slightly impressed in spite of himself. _It appears I am a big enough fish for the Deputy Headmistress to be wasting a day touring._ Yet even with the certain prestige associated with the idea, the situation had taken a displeasing turn. From what he was able to gather from the brief communications, Hogwarts was aware of where he lived, was all too aware of who he was but did not know him at all.

The strict reminder hinted at the Deputy's stern bearings and the idea that she was not questioned very often. Harry was quite happy that they did not seem to have been too aware of his situation – referring to a lack of spying done on him yet not excusing the thought yet. Harry's distrust in the Headmaster's nimble ways had already grown too far, not to be blamed entirely to his wandering imagination - his mysterious benefactor did have a hand in Harry's knowledge of the wizarding world, after all. _They wouldn't know of my awakening, though, would they? As far as I can tell, there are no wizards_ _living nearby._ Harry could only pray that his horrible luck had taken this one positive turn.

Deliberation completed, Harry gestured to the owl that had been staring at him intently to allow him to attach the message that he would not be refusing the offer.

Though it _would_ , no doubt, be beneficial to be introduced and escorted to the wizarding world by such a presumably well-known figure, Harry had many tasks he, along with his benefactor, had planned and the Deputy would definitely get in the way.

The thought of another member of their tour group did not bother him at all. _I can imagine my status being the reason I will be toured by such a figure, but then the other child would to be similarly prominent, which considering their muggleborn status is unlikely, or their potential is roughly the same as mine, though that does hint at the unpleasant thought that Hogwarts is somehow able to determine the magical power of its students. Noting that they have never met either myself or, I assume, the other party, their method of finding our locations might have to do with roughly estimating our magical power. Then again, this other party might simply be the only other magical child in the area and the good Professor would rather hit two birds with stone. Regardless, I wonder how much they know…_ …

Harry was, in light of these deliberations, quite thoughtful for the rest of the day. _Now to just inform the Dursleys._

Nimbly gliding down the stairs, Harry approached the Dursley family as they relaxed in their natural habitat, comfortable on a sofa in front of a wide-screen T.V and munching on half the contents of the fridge. Too bad the prey didn't notice its predator.

"I have news, Uncle," Harry stated. If their heads turned any faster, he'd almost have been afraid they would have gotten whiplash. "I've been graced with acceptance from Hogwarts, a letter you've been no doubt dreading for years."

Now, Vernon, for all his practicality and self-preservation, was a man too true to himself to remain cowering and afraid all the time. And even if they had become only too familiar with magic through his judicious use of it, and not only for threats, this did not mean that Vernon particularly enjoyed the concept very much.

"Give that letter here, boy!" Vernon replied, sinking slowly into his famous purple rage.

"And why would I? Keep your grubby mitts away from it. You need not concern yourself with the situation. All you have to do is drop me at the Kings Cross station on September 1st and be on your best behaviour tomorrow – an important professor is coming to introduce me to the wizarding world."

"Now listen here, boy. I will NOT have another freak like you inside this house. You –"

"You don't have a choice," Harry replied as his jaw tightened and a creeping chill pervaded the room.

Harry didn't wait for a response from the trembling slobs, making way to his room instead, where he proceeded to inform his benefactor of the new updates. Harry spent the day rehearsing his act for when he was finally introduced to another wizard, then his 'shock' upon seeing Diagon Alley for the first – which hopefully wouldn't be too difficult to fake – his interaction with the other party did not constitute enough importance to be rehearsed.

It wouldn't do for people to know about his talents and how much he already knew now, would it?

A new player had just entered the board.

~]-\\_/-[~

 **The Next Day**

Breakfast was a solemn affair. The Dursleys knew well enough by now to be properly and thoroughly cautious around wizards, even if they only knew Harry well enough to make any sort of conclusion, and he wasn't even remotely trained yet.

Harry had, acting upon the solid advice of his mysterious benefactor, subtly intimidated his foster family - _Nothing new there_ \- into not giving away any knowledge of his abilities, that is until he was competent enough in the mind magics to take care of it himself. As such, the mood around the table was not particularly bright, with the notable exception of Harry, who looked mostly neutral, inwardly excited by the adventure and displeased about the obstacles in his path.

"When is she coming, again, boy?" Vernon had the surprising intelligence to have reluctantly decided that insulting someone who could turn you into a mass of frozen meat at command was not a very bright idea.

"In a little over half an hour. Do not make a fool of yourself or me. And I hope you remember our agreement…" Harry answered, eyes narrowing slightly.

Dudley chose that moment to whimper as if he wasn't used to his cousin's amazingly intimidating aura, and Petunia let out a sound between a gag and a cough. His threats were always incredibly effective, and rightfully terrifying.

When Harry swivelled around to stare at them, he was greeted with two very shaky nods. The preparations were fine and he was really enjoying the beautiful pancakes draped across his plate.

Half an hour later saw Harry buttoning his jeans and donning his belt. It would not do for him to be underdressed after all. The doorbell rang just as Harry stepped in front of the mirror, intent on admiring the fruit of his labours – dealing with his mangled fashion sense was not remotely amusing. _Ah, right on time. Well, time to get the show on the road._

As Harry descended the stairs, he peered at the stranger making her way into the house. Clad in a comfortably formal purple robe was a silver-haired woman with brown eyes. She gave the impression that she did not smile very often, what with the few wrinkles around her eyes, so Harry was flattered to see a light smile playing on her lips as she looked at him. _She must've been a pretty woman in her youth._

It appeared that she had been exchanging inconsequential words with Vernon and Petunia but quickly shifted her attention once she caught sight of him.

"Harry Potter," she breathed in a voice resonating with awe, nostalgia and sorrow, "It's been so long…."

Harry was stopped in motion by a sudden thought. _She knew me from before the incident_. _She might've been there with the Headmaster when they left me here._ But she didn't need to know he suspected that.

"Professor McGonagall, it is a pleasure to meet you. I have been quite excited for the tour today and can't wait. Will I need to take anything with me?" Harry queried politely, having decided to bring up the matter of her association once they had a better relationship.

"Ah, yes, I understand. No, Mr Potter, you need not carry anything with you. We shall leave in a few moments. Would you mind leaving me alone with your family for a word?"

"Of course, Professor. I understand. I shall be waiting outside."

As Harry passed his 'family' she shot them an understanding look further reinforcing his threat. Vernon and Petunia were doing their best to not appear flustered and were struggling to remember their nephew's rules for this conversation.

McGonagall knew these muggles were aware of magic and so didn't hold back on the questioning.

"Mr & Mrs Dursley, I'm afraid I must ask you as to Mr Potter's life under your care. Has he ever displayed anything magical talents of any sort? Or caused any trouble?"

There was a brief hesitation before Vernon grunted, "That boy's been nothing but trouble since we took him in. Making us watch as our furniture was broken, utensils lost and patience frayed was not kind of you, witch." Vernon remembered briefly seeing this witch on that night. "No, seems perfectly normal for a freak like him. He's bad enough already, I won't tolerate it any longer if he starts causing any more trouble with that blasted magic of his, or any other talents!"

McGonagall watched Vernon carefully through his little rant and noting his sincerity, was briefly blindsided with guilt and regret.

"Yes, when are you taking him away from here to that freak school of yours? I want him out of the house today if I can help it!" Petunia shrieked.

McGonagall's eyes narrowed. " _Harry_ will only be leaving for the day and will be back in the evening. Term starts in a month, as you well know. I will be asking him about the rest of his summer once he is at school, and if….."

Although Vernon and Petunia did not really like their nephew, having been sufficiently cowed ( _read 'intimidated'_ ) repeatedly, they didn't want him gone now nearly as much as they had in the past, before his _awakening_ , their hope that he would turn out normal having been broken violently and the fact that they resided now in a simple equilibrium with no real trouble doing much for that new line of thinking - not that they would have been able to be rid of him even if they wanted to. But on Harry's orders, they gave their best in playing their parts (as they had been before the _awakening_ and trembled visibly at McGonagall's threat like the spineless excuses of flesh she expected them to be.

McGonagall seemed to be satisfied with the limited discussion as she shot a frigid glare at the mildly shaking couple and turned on her heel, smoothly striding past the door where Harry was waiting at the gate.

"Mr Potter, we'll be travelling to pick up the other student now as I'd rather not have to repeat myself. Now grab my forearm tightly. This will be unpleasant."

Harry took the aforementioned limb without pause and waited for the apparently horrible feeling of apparition he had been previously been warned about. He gritted his teeth in that brief window of time when he felt like he was being squeezed through a thin tube, and then they were deposited, healthy and whole, in front of a modest building marginally smaller than #4 Privet Drive.

"What was that?!" Harry croaked through his tensed vocal cords.

"That was called apparition, the wizard's form of travel. Best not think too much about it. You'll be given lessons in your sixth year. But you're in spectacular shape. Most throw up after their first experience." McGonagall answered dutifully.

"I can't imagine why," Harry snarked, mildly sarcastic.

McGonagall's lip briefly twitched upward before she shook her head and approached the gate ahead, leaving Harry alone. She returned a short few minutes later with a young girl that looked briefly familiar. The girl seemed to perk up slightly upon noticing him, then her face twitched as if confused. She seemed to be anticipating something but Harry was quite unfamiliar with females and so was understandably lost. The girl looked down in brief disappointment before returning to her – usual? – bouncy self. McGonagall seemed mildly amused by the short reaction and took it upon herself to make introductions.

"Mr Potter, meet Lyanna Willis. Ms Willis, meet Harry Potter," she said slowly, making the appropriate gestures.

~]-\\_/-[~

 **A Short While Later**

Harry stood beside Lyanna in pure bemusement, watching as the Professor strode confidently towards a nondescript brick wall. _It isn't as if its gonna reveal a magical gateway to the magical world of Diagon Alley!_ As he watched it do just that, Harry couldn't help but wonder what joy the universe got pranking him like that. _Better remember that passcode if I'm gonna sneak here again._

Walking past crowds of people dressed most strangely, Harry rejoiced in his trust of his benefactor and his own rarely helpful fashion sense in his decision to grow his hair out so that it covered most of his forehead and thus his horribly-attention-seeking lightning scar. While Harry was not one to preen his feathers under undeserved fame, he wouldn't be adverse to using it to his benefit in the future. But today was not that day.

Harry imagined how the occupants of the Leaky Cauldron would have reacted if they knew who he was. Luckily, they didn't and McGonagall quickly led them out of sight, but only after explaining to Harry – and his company, Lyanna – Harry's position in the wizarding world, which led to a round of spluttered coughs from both of the youngsters.

Harry had noted the odd clothing of the people – 'wizards and witches' – there while sweeping his gaze across the pub, but while walking out, he felt a vaguely malicious gaze on his back and his head started throbbing suddenly. Looking around, he had noticed a cloaked figure near the back corner whose hood was turned in his direction, when his head stopped throbbing. Shuddering, Harry had made haste to catch up with the other members of his party. Harry's resolve to study the mind arts soared to new heights after that experience.

As they passed one of the darker alleys populated primarily by shady-looking people, Harry made a mental note to visit it sometime in the future. Once they reached an area filled with a younger crowd, McGonagall turned to the two trailing behind, taking in the sights and sounds of such a 'wonderful' new world.

Pointing at the large white building off to the left, McGonagall, "That's Gringotts, the wizarding bank. It's run by goblins on account of a treaty signed in the past. Vicious creatures. They, as a different magical creature, have their own laws and values. Remember to be respectful at all times as any perceived insult can end very messily, with a great deal of bloodshed. Also, Gringotts if considered the safest place in Brittain outside of Hogwarts. _Never_ try to rob a goblin."

The two first years behind her could only nod shakily as she turned forward again and led them to the building. Standing in front of the doors were two short creatures with large, pointy ears clad in armor, next to straightforward, yet mildly disconcerting poem. Harry was slightly surprised to see their light complexion, having expected an exotic green complexion instead. Oddly, both Harry and Lyanna found the goblin guards intimidating with their mean look in spite of them towering at 3 feet.

Inside, there was a large chamber occupied by dozens of witches and wizards lined up in front of desks occupied by goblins. The goblins appeared to be scribbling notes in large ledgers while communicating with the witch/wizard in front of them, weighing coins and artifacts in brass scales and examining precious stones through eyeglasses. McGonagall led the two behind her to a counter with a short line.

Unimpressed with merely waiting in line, Harry turned to his younger companion, who he had yet to pay much attention to. She was auburn-haired and light eyed and was shorter than him but not by much. She had a light sprinkling of freckles across her nose and an innocent, excitable look about her. Harry decided from what he'd seen so far that he didn't dislike her so far – she gave off a trustworthy vibe.

"Lyanna, was it? Can I call you Lyanna?" Harry had decided on politeness.

"Ah, yeah, sure. If you want, I guess," Lyanna replied, having turned to examined the wizard upon feeling his eyes on her.

"Well, it _is_ a nice name. But I think I'll call you Freckles," Harry decided, liking the sound of it.

"Hey! Don't call me that!" Lyanna said, narrowing her eyes. It was clear to Harry that she had some bad memories associated with the word, and he wasn't looking to start a fight.

"Ah. Well, I like the sound of it for a nickname. Plus, those freckles of yours really bring out your eyes, you know? Didn't know you'd get so offended," Harry murmured.

Anger subverted, Lyanna turned away, cheeks pinking slightly, though Harry didn't see that. Harry noticed that she didn't refute his argument. _Ha! Whoever said that flattery doesn't get you anywhere!_

McGonagall had been watching the confrontation in amusement, though she didn't show it when they made it to the goblin teller.

"Good morning," she said to the goblin, "We've come to withdraw some money from Mr Potter's vault and exchange some muggle notes for galleons."

"Hand over Mr Potter's key, then, and the muggle currency, madam," the goblin curtly replied. Harry got the feeling that they didn't feel much respect to wizards.

McGonagall dutifully removed a gold rectangular card-like object alongside a thick was of notes she must have been given by Mr Willis and another, smaller gold key.

The goblin accepted the objects and started counting the notes carefully. Nodding, he reached underneath the desk and pulled out a bag presumably filled with coins, which he handed to McGonagall. "That is worth 200 galleons and 13 sickles," he said. Turning to inspect the keys, he deemed them authentic and motioned somewhere behind him. "I'll have someone take you to the vaults," he said.

Harry paid close attention to the interaction under the guise of curiosity and realized the bigger key must have been his. _Since I'm actually a half-born, my parents must have left me a vault. I'll be sure to inspect it later. Freckles is a muggleborn, though, and probably received her key with her Hogwarts letter. That's an interesting relationship._ He broke out of his musing when he noticed another goblin approaching.

With no words needed, the company followed the goblin to one of the many doors lining the walls of the chamber. The door opened to show a mine-like corridor – including a cart and rails too! – and following McGonagall, her younger companions seated themselves in the cart.

Apparently not as shaken as the two youngsters due to the video-game-like ride, McGonagall started explaining after passing Lyanna her money. "Remember this carefully, both of you. You've noticed that the magical world uses a different currency by now. What Lyanna's bag contains are gold coins called galleons and smaller silver coins called sickles. There is one more type of coin called a knut, which is made of bronze. It is split up like this: 1 galleon is worth 17 sickles and 1 sickle is worth 29 knuts."

Harry shook his head, wondering about the lack of simplicity here.

"Ms Willis, we'll be going to your vault first as its closer to the surface. Your vault will be smaller than Mr Potter's as it is new because you are a muggleborn, and obviously empty. The 200 galleons you have here is worth quite a lot and it will easily last you 4-5 years in Hogwarts, depending on how you spend your money. Remember to use it wisely."

Their impromptu lesson was cut short when the cart started slowing down. The goblin pointed to one vault, number 976, and McGonagall escorted Lyanna to the doors while Harry waited patiently in the cart. They emerged soon after, with Lyanna carry a much lighter bag. Harry speculated that she would take a decent amount with her to school in case of emergencies after the day's purchases.

They continued their journey deeper underground when they reached Harry's supposed vault. Harry noticed that the doors were larger than those of Lyanna's vault as he approached them, flanked by his companions. _Freckles couldn't help her curiosity, huh?_ The goblin took out the larger gold 'key' from before and inserted it into a slot on the left door, and the door shuddered open. They were all greeted by the sight of large stacks of coins, of all three colours.

"This is all mine?" Harry gasped, appearing overwhelmed at the sight. Inside, Harry was still quite surprised by the amount but he still had a suspicion he planned to investigate later.

"All yours," McGonagall replied, smiling. Lyanna was transfixed by the sight.

"Wow! You sure are rich, Harry," Lyanna said in awe.

"I guess," Harry chuckled, "It is nice to know my parents left me something."

Upon receiving a nod from the goblin who wasn't affected by the suddenly sombre atmosphere, Harry took a step forward before turning to McGonagall, who handed him a bag similar to Lyanna's, abashed. Harry strode into his vault, filled with pride at his parents for amassing such an amount and started filling the bag with a decent amount of each of the coins, more than enough for the day's expenses and for an emergency fund for the year. _Always good to have spare change, right?_ The rest didn't know that he planned to come back real soon.

Finished with their business, the three rode the cart back to the top were on their way out of the building when they caught sight of a large man approaching. He was huge, way bigger than a human should be.

"Ah, Professor McGonagall! I take it you are here for these two?" The man looked at the Professor's younger companions.

"You are right, of course, Hagrid. Meet Harry Potter and Lyanna Willis," she introduced.

"Merlin's beard, Harry Potter! Last I saw you, you were but a baby," Hagrid greeted before turning to greet Lyanna as well.

"But what are you doing here, Hagrid?" McGonagall asked curiously.

"I'm here to pick up You-Know-What for Dumbledore as you already know, Professor."

"I see. We'll leave you to it, then. Come along now, children," McGonagall said, having noticed the impatient goblin motioning to Hagrid, moving to walk ahead with Lyanna following her.

"Until next time, then, Harry. I'll see you in Hogwarts," Hagrid said, already walking to the cart with another goblin.

Harry hurried to catch up, already speculating that Hagrid might have been there to drop him off at the Dursleys, considering he was apparently highly trusted by the Headmaster. He resolved to befriend – question – the man later.

Once again amidst the roiling crowds, McGonagall tool out their lists and pointedly set out on her journey. _They do warn us men about women and shopping._ A little more than an hour later and armed with trunks of the most expensive – and effective – variety that had been dumped with an impressive assortment of magical equipment, not to mention a set of brass scales, a remarkably plain looking cauldron, a sturdy looking pair of dragon hide gloves as well as dozens of books Harry felt compelled to investigate further, while making sure to keep the lovely Professor unaware of his extra purchases, though Lyanna did look curious as he quickly shoveled them away before she could catch sight of any of the titles.

Though Harry had decided to make haste regarding the mind arts, he had been resigned to wait until Hogwarts for ransacking the library for this piece of impressive knowledge. He did, however, make sure to purchase a set for higher years as well – no one would ever say Harry did not take his studies seriously – especially Defense Against the Dark Arts, which he had a feeling he would be getting rather intimate with, real soon, as well as charms and transfiguration to a lesser extent.

McGonagall checked the list again and seemed quite happy to send her two younger companions to presumably one of their last items. They were not especially amused to enter Madam Malkins' and find a snobbish, spoilt-looking brat of a lighter coloring with awfully light blond hair - it would almost be called silver if that were not an insult to the color itself – and Harry felt a knot twist in his gut, just as he discovered an unexplainable dislike for the boy in front of them.

Lyanna seemed to enjoy his company just as much, and breaking their irritating stare, she turned to Miss Malkins to get her order ready. Hearing the pompous-looking brat gloat about his amazing, expensive _acromantula silk_ robes and hearing its outrageous price, Harry was not very amused to see a brief dejected look to cross his female companion's face before it was replaced by her usual bright expression.

"Can't afford it? Hahaha, serves you right, you damn mudblood. Know your goddamn place," the unpleasant boy commented.

In a surprising act of solidarity, Harry decided to get his own robes done in the same slightly lesser material as the oh-so-affectionately-christened Freckles. Turning to the boy with a raised eyebrow and oozing how utterly unimpressed he was, Harry glanced at him and simply looked away, as if he wasn't worth the time.

"How _dare_ you look at me like that?! I'll see you mudblood filth expelled from Hogwarts immediately. Just wait until my father hears of this…." He finished his rant, muttering about consequences when a man of decent height and the same shade of hair strode in with a cane.

"Draco, you should have finished your business by now," the older man glanced airily at Madam Malkins, who endeavoured to finish their business as soon as possible, whether because of intimidation or simply because she didn't want them in her store was up for deliberation. Harry was forced to conclude that either the man was of high standing and influential or he was a 'former' Death Eater.

"Yes father," apparent Death Eater junior replied dutifully.

Giving them a sweeping glance, the man sneered disdainfully wand lifted his nose in the air before turning around and motioning his son to join him. "Then let us be rid of the filth in this place," he said at the doorway, glaring straight at Harry.

Harry immediately knew that this man would be a problem in the future and it would be best to nip it in the bud before things spiral out of control, preferably with his bratty son upon their next interaction.

Presently, Harry looked to see Lyanna glancing at him speculatively, who snapped out of her thinking when she noticed his gaze and turned away, nose raised in – playful – defiance. Harry could not help himself and snorted, _I'm sure she wouldn't have been nearly as playful if she knew what those insults meant_. Harry didn't know either but he couldn't vaguely guess at it and wasn't too pleased by the interaction, so he endeavoured to cheer up his ignorant companion, if only by snarky, sarcastic comments and the occasional horrible pun.

Having picked up their robes, they rejoined the Professor at the Leaky Cauldron where she seemed to be enjoying a pleasant cup of tea and proceeded to their final destination for the shopping trip. Peering at the faded storefront that read ' _Ollivanders, Makers of Fine Wands since 328 B.C_ ', Harry noticed a single gnarled stick set on a faded purple cushion in the window. _If this is the advertising, then he must have quite the brand name._

Professor McGonagall followed after the two as they made their way into the shop and was the slightest bit amused at their reaction to the dusty, shelved shop.

"I see you've finally made it," a smooth voice drifted toward them as a pair of silver eyes made themselves known, followed by an old man with a kind smile, causing the young pair to start violently. "I've been wondering how long it would be since I saw a Potter again. Yes, I remember your parents – and their wands, of course, quite exceptional though they were, but that isn't the point here. If you're anything like your parents, Mr Potter, it seems I've found myself a tricky customer, and I always love the challenge.'

Turning to Lyanna, who he had summarily ignored through the little monologue, he said, "And welcome to you as well, Ms Willis. I am hoping from your apparent companionship to Mr. Potter that you will present me a similar challenge as well."

Both of the older pair watched in amusement as Lyanna shot out denials of any sort of companionship like bullets, seeming quite indignant about it as well, while Harry merely found his own lips twitching as he noticed a brilliant opportunity for future teasing if their current relationship were to last. Harry was not a bit skeptical about that, considering what he knew about Hogwarts' Houses.

Giving the two of them a slight nod, McGonagall left the shop to allow them their privacy – choosing a wand is quite a personal affair, after all – but not before offering to escort them if they had any desire for a pet. Lyanna decided to accompany her later, not before they chose their wands.

Harry took the lead and stepped forward slightly, silently communicating to Ollivander to start the process. Gleefully, Ollivander took the opening and questioned him, "Which is your dominant hand, Mr Potter?"

When Harry stretched out his right arm as an answer, Ollivander plucked a box off the nearest shelf and removed a wand, the specifications of which he began to explain before thrusting it into Harry's grip, only to replace it in the box the next moment, muttering something that sounded like, "No, perhaps ashwood? And unicorn hair?"

No less than 15 minutes later and after trying out nearly a quarter of the visible wands in the shop, Harry got the feeling that this was going to take a while. While nearly every wand released a soft light from the tip – something Harry was sure surprised the wandmaker quite a bit, Harry could feel the lack of a strong connection, and if Harry's suspicions were correct, so could the wiry wandmaker in front of him.

At last Ollivander hesitated as he rounded his desk, looking speculative, but he obliged his curiosity and pulled out a box, which he triumphantly opened to reveal a much nicer looking wand. Ollivander gave Harry an expectant look so Harry cooperated and lifted the wand, suddenly feeling a much greater sense of belonging and comfort than with any other wander. Clearly, the emotion showed on his face, as if the grand sparks weren't enough indication, as Ollivander looked particularly pleased.

This didn't last long, unfortunately for Harry. The comfort started rapidly leaving him as his mind starting clearing, a by-product of actively using occlumency, which surprised Harry as he was certain he hadn't done anything of the sort. As the comfort fled, so did the shower of sparks and Ollivander's pleased face when he watched the magic released by the wand ground to a halt, just marginally better than the best of the previous wands. Harry's conviction to study the mind arts had probably grown to resemble his (highly influenced) distrust of the Headmaster by now!

Feeling as disappointed as Ollivander looked, Harry returned the wand and sighed, wondering the possibility that he wouldn't be able to find a wand, as stupid as it was, and all the horrors that would come with that eventuality before he calmed himself. _I can control my accidental magic after all!_ Harry gave a small smile and discretely nudged his head in Lyanna's direction.

"Although I always appreciate a tricky customer, I wouldn't want to make anyone wait. Since I believe that Mr Potter will prove the more formidable of you two, let's continue with you Ms Willis. Now, which is your dominant hand?" Ollivander questioned.

As Ollivander fired off a number of questions at the poor girl, Harry noted that he spent most of that time sizing her up, but at the same time as if he was not really looking at her but at something else nearby. Harry made a mental note to investigate it later.

Watching as Lyanna was given an unassuming wand of birchwood and dragon heartstrings and was summarily robbed of the very same object not a moment later, only to be repeated by another if slightly less unassuming wand, Harry resigned himself to the wait.

After another similarly spent 15 minutes, Ollivander looked at the same time eager for the challenge and disheartened by the possibilities of the situation. Giving a sweeping look of the room to search his mind for any other good matches, he glanced back speculatively at the wand that gave Harry such a fright and gingerly held it to his female companion, saying, "Well, give it a go."

Though apprehensive, Freckles grasped the bottom of the wand and suddenly her expression turned to one of contentment. Possibly turning around to present her new wand to the only acquaintance she knew at the moment, Freckles spun and pointed her wand at the unsuspecting Harry at the same time it showed its appreciation for being united with its master in the form of a jet of flames spewed at Harry.

The poor boy could only thank his reflexes from his horrible childhood and his extensive training that he was able to jump out of the way without incident, mostly. Looking at his mildly burnt left arm held in the loving embrace of his burning sleeves – thank god they left the robes in their trunks! – Harry turned his sour expression to Lyanna's surprised face.

Before she could get a word in, he started, "What the hell, Freckles? You trying to kill me or something?!"

As her surprise turned to indignation at being accused of an accident, Harry turned his gaze to the shocked look of the wandmaker behind her.

At Harry's apparent ignorance, Lyanna's tightly controlled and rarely released – not if Hogwarts had anything to say about it! – temper snapped and she fired, "Shut up Potter! Are you an idiot or something? Why the hell would I want to kill you?!"

Before Harry could retort, the both of them were distracted by Ollivander's quiet words, "Curious, how curious…"

Explosion diverted, Harry questioned, "What? What's so curious?!"

"No, Mr Potter. It is just that I remember every wand I've ever sold" – _Even I can't help being impressed at that_ – "And the phoenix who donated the feather for this wand's core had donated one feather more, absolutely identical. I just thought it interesting that you, Ms Willis, are destined for this wand when its brother gave young Mr Potter his scar."

The two youngsters just gaped at him for a moment before Lyanna burst out, "You mean Voldemort?! This is the brother to Voldemort's wand!"

"Do not speak his name so lightly, Ms Willis! But it is true, Voldemort did possess the other wand. Yew and phoenix feather, a highly powerful wand and so very dangerous in the wrong hands. _After all, Voldemort did great things… terrible, but great_ _ **.**_ I believe it would be right to expect great and wonderful things for you too, Ms Willis."

Even Harry found his normally collected composure broken for a few moments there.

Wits gathered, Lyanna collected the necessary galleons only to receive a smile from the old wandmaker. "You owe me nothing, child. I'm just waiting to see those great things," he said, prompting a smile from her.

Although Harry was sure she wanted to buy a pet, _I'd bet on an owl_ , he was surprised to see her take a seat near the entrance, clearly waiting for him. Harry wasn't sure how to respond to that, considering the recent revelations, so chose to turn back to Ollivander instead.

The wandmaker merely threw Harry a more intense speculative look and then whispered to him, "Have you ever tried to reach out to your magical core, Harry?"

The question was so unexpected, Harry almost didn't notice the new familiar addressing Ollivander used. Harry knew better than to hand out private, _dangerous_ information to strangers, but he got a distinct feeling that Ollivander already knew far more than he should and was strangely trustworthy.

So he leaned in close, not close enough for Lyanna to wonder at, and whispered back, "I'm not sure, really. I know that I can control and direct my accidental magic now, but I've never attempted to go further than that." Harry still knew better than to mention anything remotely related to elementals if he didn't raise the topic first.

Ollivander nodded slightly. "Well then, I know it can be difficult and will probably take time, but try to reach inside you, find out where the magic within really lies. That is the first step to greatness." Harry nodded in compliance, noticing the directness of the advice. _I wonder if this mysterious old man knows my mysterious benefactor? Ha! What are the chances?_

"Now grab hold of that 'accidental magic' of yours, though we call it wandless magic these days and spread it lightly across this room."

Ollivander had a sneaking feeling about this whole experience.

As Harry did so, slowly extending the tendrils of his magic, he found one particularly strong magical item that resonated with his magic stashed hidden beneath a glamour of some kind in the wall behind Ollivander's desk. Reaching for it, felt a sudden discharge of magic displace the air around them as a long wand darted out of the perforation to stop, floating just in front of his right hand.

As Harry's magic coiled around the powerful wand and a brief chill drifted from its tip, Harry grasped its base with his right hand. There was a bright flash of light, and the other two inhabitants of the shop could see no more.

Harry watched in awe as the entire wand glowed a brilliant white before the glow dissipated and he was left with the most beautiful wand he was sure he would ever see. An impossible black, Harry was sure there was never a wand as _dark_ as this, decorated with winding swirls of that same brilliant white and inscribed at the bottom in a sharp grey was an odd symbol, consisting of a triangle in which there lay a circle, both bisected by a straight line. Harry made a note to investigate this further – at high priority!

The other occupants of the room seemed to snap back into their senses and were astounded to see Harry standing there with an entirely different looking wand in his hand to the one that had flown at him, grinning while surrounded by a small tornado of frosty air and snowflakes, which was rapidly expanding and buffeting the rest of the shop in its turbulence.

Harry, however, was too far gone in delight as he held the spectacular wand he was sure was destined to be his – a suspicion that would be confirmed by the wiry old wandmaker himself real soon – and the feeling of power that welled in him as he felt himself being caressed by the cold.

Harry belatedly opened his eyes to find both Ollivander and Lyanna crouched being his desk, hiding from the growing temptest around him. Surprised, Harry quickly dispelled it with a thought – he would later realize the massive increase in his strength the wand caused – it was as if he had been reunited with a piece of him he never knew existed.

Abashed, Harry grinned slightly at them as Lyanna gaped for a moment and Ollivander broke into a wide grin. Deciding he would question the wandmaker for a few moments while Lyanna went off to buy her owl, he turned towards her and negotiated, "If you don't speak of my wand, I won't speak of yours."

Startled, Lyanna quickly gathered herself and nodded decisively. "Deal."

"Alright, I'll see you in a minute. Why don't you catch the Professor and go look at the pets? I could tell you liked the idea."

Lyanna pinkened briefly at being read so easily but caught herself and bade a quick goodbye to both males before scurrying off in excitement or fear, Harry couldn't tell, but he didn't like the thought that she feared him for some reason.

Harry firmly turned to Ollivander to find him smiling slightly.

"I need to know. Tell me, how did know of my accidental magic?"

"Ah, that one's easy enough. You should know after seeing your companion that witches' and wizards' don't usually light up at all except for their chosen one on their first time. That every one of the wands gave you showed some connection told me had you had a much better, and extremely rare, connection to your magical core, and that you are the first one to have achieved it at such an age, but not to the level I had guessed, it seems."

"I see." _This sounds important. I'll be sure to visit here later for more answers_. "And what about this magnificent wand" – the apparently semi-sentient wand buzzed slightly in his hand at the compliment – "And the whole floating thing/appearance change?"

"Now that one is decidedly harder. The wand you now find in your possession is a special, ancient wand that has apparently chosen you as its master. This particular wand has a long, bloody history with many, many masters but this is the first I've heard of such a spectacle. Perhaps it was waiting for you, its true master, all along, huh?"

Ollivander chuckled and cut off Harry's next question. "I'm not sure about the glowing or the changes but I'm guessing it has something to do with aligning itself to best match out of you. Don't ask me. You'll have to find out about that yourself along with its name and history if you ever want to bond with it properly. Now, I obviously won't accept payment for a wand I never crafted but I need you to swear to me. Swear to me that you will use this wand to do good, your version of 'good', no matter the consequences."

Harry, though he knew it was not a magical oath or binding vow of any kind, still felt oddly changed by the simple words. Though he didn't know it at the time, Harry added Ollivander to his extremely short list of the trustworthy people in his life, the only name alongside his mysterious benefactor as of that moment. Inclining his head in a small gesture of respect, Harry turned around and walked to the doorway of the shop, hearing the wand maker's soft words on the wind as he opened the door.

"What a surprise you are, Harry, and your journey's just begun. I'm looking forward to it." The last he would see of the shop for some time was Ollivander's amused face.

~]-\\_/-[~

 **Later**

Not long after Harry met up with Lyanna, accompanied by a beautiful snowy white owl she had yet to name, and Professor McGonagall, who had finished her business, and the party departed towards their homes, a handsome young-looking man faded ( _read 'coalesced'_ ) into being in a chair opposite one carrying an old man pouring himself a drink.

"You were expecting this weren't you, you sly dog? I'm sure you were laughing your ass off at the looks on our faces," the old man accused good-naturedly.

"Of course I did. That is why I gave it you in the first place," the young man taunted with a smirk.

"Ohh, I can't wait!" The redheaded woman next to him exclaimed.

The young man couldn't help himself as he broke into a thirsty grin.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Hey guys. It _hasn't_ been a while, has it? No, I think I'm going to try to stick to a bi-weekly update schedule. Hurray to that!

On another note, we'll be at Hogwarts soon. Anybody has any preferences on confrontations, friendships (pay attention to the summary on this) and particular adventures? I don't want Harry turning too OP but I really like what a lot of other fanfics have done with companions/familiars and such. Feel free to drop a review or just PM me.

Later then.


	4. A Beginning of Sorts

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of this, aside from my own characters and my own plot. JK Rowling does.

Alright then. Well, now this is delayed update I didn't expect. I'm trying to get into the characters' shoes but it's a bit tough – first story and all. Anyways, just letting y'all know that all the chapters – including this one – so far have _not_ been beta read. If anybody's up for it, I'd love to have you!

Moving on, thanks for your reviews and favs/follows so far. Great motivation! I've not really received many ideas yet, though I'll be trying for the ones I have, so be sure to let me know if you've got anything. And that's that. So without further ado:

* * *

 **A Beginning of Sorts**

 **27** **th** **July, 1991**

Harry woke with the dawn, just a bit too excited too sleep in, not that he would ever admit it. After yesterday's peculiar events, he was determined to step up and get his life back on track – back on _his_ track. Now that he had already visited Diagon Alley with the Professor, he had no reason to believe that Dumbledore would suddenly pay any more attention to watching his every move, taking into account whatever McGonagall chose to dutifully report, he was sure.

Anyhow, all that meant was more time for Harry to go about his business, and he was going to start today. Descending the stairs to start with breakfast, Harry planned the day's objectives. There surely were quite a few purchases to make and he did want to clear up that business with the goblins. _But all in good time. I'm starving!_ He decided that he needn't bother alerting his awful 'family' as to his whereabouts for the day after his amazingly intimidating return the night before. _Ha! At least my wand's good for something over summer._ Harry merely left a short note and a healthy portion of breakfast – as his treat – for them, not that they would be concerned.

Dressed appropriately and with his scar covered, Harry stepped out into the driveway and decided to hail a taxi to the Leaky Cauldron using some of the pocket money he'd resourcefully saved up over the years. Noticing the lack of shady individuals in the pub, Harry muttered a quick greeting to the bartender and scurried past. Stepping into the Alley, Harry decided to deal with Gringotts first and so made his way there. He probably shouldn't have been surprised that they were up and operating so early in the morning – wizards didn't really come off as the most active bunch!

Stepping up to who appeared to be the Head Teller on the floor quickly considering the lack of wizards around – _at least I'm not going to have to be worried about being overheard_ – Harry bowed his head slightly in polite respect and stated, "Good morning. My name is Harry Potter. I've come to discuss matters of my House with my Account Manager, if he has the time."

Watching the goblin's eyes widening slightly, Harry wasn't sure whether asking about the other goblin's free time was a good idea. The goblin sobered then, and motioned presumably to another goblin somewhere behind him.

"You will have to prove you are who you say you are, of course. In which case, I've arranged for an audience with your Account Manager if he is not otherwise occupied. If you will follow him," the Head Teller said, gesturing at another slightly smaller goblin, "He'll guide you through it."

Harry followed the smaller goblin after expressing his thanks to the Head Teller but couldn't help but question, "What will I have to do?" on the way.

The goblin grunted, "Not much. Just sign your name with this quill here." With that, he handed Harry an odd – _But then again, quills are odd in general_ – sort of quill, white in color.

Harry glanced at the object and coolly lifted it, proceeding to sign his identity as directed. Harry was startled, however, as he noticed a sharp pain corresponding to the few strokes he had made with the quill. Upon further notice, he found that those same strokes were starting to be carved on the back of his arm as well. Harry was not amused and his look said it all.

"I see that you do not recognize the quill. It is a blood quill; it will not write lies," the goblin shrugged, unsympathetic to Harry's plight. Harry grit his teeth and finished the job.

' _Harrison James Potter,_

 _Heir of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter'_

The goblin glanced at Harry and nodded, leading the way back to the Head Teller and simply nodded again. Harry was then escorted inside large office with a plaque spelling 'Potter Account Manager', where he was left in the presence of a ruffled-looking young goblin. Harry was understandably confused. _As a prestigious House, I assumed our Account Manager would be an old, experienced goblin._

Nevertheless, Harry tipped his head slightly and greeted formally, "Good morning. My name is" – having just recently confirmed his full name, Harry decided to indulge in some measure of formality – "Harrison James Potter. I assume you are the Account Manager of my House?"

The young goblin seemed to scrutinize Harry for a moment. "Indeed, I am the new Account Manager of your House, after my father decided I was worthy to take over the trade. I am known as Targald. Although it _is_ nice to finally meet you Mr Potter – or should I call you Lord? – may I ask where you have been these past few years and why you never replied to any of our owls?" he began.

While Harry had been expecting questions, it did not occur to him that his lack of presence before his 11th birthday would be of any real concern. Caught just the bit off guard, Harry stumbled slightly through his resentment. "Where I've been? I've been lovingly placed in a tortuously muggle home with no understanding of magic. Regarding your other statement, I'm certain I've never seen an owl prior to the day before, much less any Gringotts' owls."

Although Harry _was_ losing his composure by a slight margin, his calm reply would do wonders for his relationship with the Goblin Nation. _They do play a rather disconcertingly large role in the wizarding world._

Tilting his head in understanding, Targald took his seat and motioned for Harry to do so.

"It appears we have a problem, Mr Potter. There seems to be a mail redirection charm about you, strong enough to deter Gringotts' mail. This is a serious crime, as you well know," he stated with an eyebrow raised in question, apparently having picked up on Harry's rising ire with his statement.

"I am aware. Although I would prefer for this charm to be removed immediately, I'm sure there must be hindrances as you've not mentioned the possibility yet."

Targald raised an eyebrow, somewhat impressed. "Very astute, Mr Potter. Indeed, there _is_ a ritual that entails the total cleaning of one's 'magical core', which would take care of the mail redirection and any and all other magics on you. There is a downside, however: you are not yet the Lord of your House, though you may claim Headship immediately. You may, of course, participate in the ritual in the future, but not today."

Harry was only mildly disappointed with the setback, having expected as much, yet the goblin's words had struck a nerve. _Any and all other magics on me? How much other magic is on me?! And who is responsible?!_ But Harry already had his suspicions. _Dumbledore…_ _…_ Though it wouldn't do to merely operate on suspicions. He would simply have to bide his time until he possessed all the answers he sought.

Resolving to debate the matter further, Harry captured the goblin's attention and indicated his interest in claiming the Headship of his House. He watched as Targald reached carefully into a secure looking vault _– In Gringotts, mind you_ – and pulled out a small box. Harry was relatively unsurprised to discover a ring hiding within, though the colors did interest him. Looking to Targald and receiving his nod, Harry lifted the ring and promptly placed in on his middle finger.

Instantly Harry was assaulted with a vast magical presence – _Must be the 'family magic'_ – that was centered on his mind. Targald watched in mild curiosity from his seat as the young man clutched his head as if he were suffering an agonizing pain. Harry had never felt such a magical force, and that included what meager memoried he had of the incident with the 'Dark Lord', and he seriously regretted not paying more attention to his occlumency practise, not that it would have made a difference here. Harry struggled as he felt the presence sweep across his mind, practically living his life through his memories in microseconds and was beyond relief when he felt the presence had stopped its search – cue the loss of mental agony – and had given Harry what he translated to an approving nod.

Happy that the 'test' had been completed and waiting as the manifestation of his 'family magic' left the recesses of his mind, Harry glanced at Targald who gave him an approving nod.

"In case you were unaware, the family magic of a House judges he who seeks the lordship of the house and it seems you've passed."

Harry couldn't help but agree while glancing at the ring now situated comfortably on his middle finger. While he had been expecting a bright red Gryffindor-style crest, the Potter family was remarkably more modest. Adorning the ring were the surprisingly tasteful colors of crimson and a deep grey decorating the crest. Though quite intrigued, something in the back of Harry's mind called it fitting.

Just then, Harry's mind was flooded with tides of information befitting the Lord of House Potter, which Harry effectively was with his new Headship. Harry was now aware of the Potter holdings, the contents of the main vault, his trust vault, the locations of his properties – _My Manor!_ – as well as his business enterprises. Harry gave Targald a pointed look which the goblin seemed to understand, and the two sat down for business.

Hours later, Harry was walking out of Gringotts content with his deeds of the morning. The majority of his happiness stemmed from the fact that he was now the Head of House Potter, though none needed to know that. The ring could effectively vanish if he didn't need it, after all. The best aspect of this new change in position was the fact that Harry was now quite emancipated and totally free from that blasted Headmaster's legal clutches, and he planned to make liberal use of the fact.

One of the most important transactions of the day would have to be Harry's acquisition of possibly some of the most overlooked treasure in the wizarding world. _Fools!_ Harry had been determined to get his hands on a moke-skin pouch of sorts and a substantial heap of gold later – _This is worth sooo much more than a few hundred galleons! –_ he was the proud owner of a truly, honestly bottomless moke-skin 'pouch', which would not be a very accurate description as Harry had seen to it that the 'pouch' was expandable around the rim and such could practically fit anything inside. He had just secured the most secure holding possible as only the owner could place or withdraw an item from the 'pouch'. Though Harry wasn't satisfied with the pouch's classification of its owner, words on a sheet of paper, and he filed it in his mind to take care of it later, probably in Hogwarts. As icing on the cake, Harry had taken to stringing up the pouch to a necklace charmed to be unbreakable – which Harry would make _sure_ of in the future – and wearing it, away from prying eyes. _Best way to keep a secret is to ensure no one knows there is a secret to be kept._

An outcome of taking his Headship was that Harry was gifted a silver Gringotts card that functioned as a muggle debit card, highly convenient compared to lugging around sacks of heavy, metal coins.

Harry considered taking a stroll down Knockturn Alley for a second wand – _Better safe than sorry_ – but he figured wandless magic made it a moot point. Perhaps he would return to take a look at some of the darker books that were sure to call the dingy place home.

For a laugh, Harry decided to visit the pet shop Lyanna had found her admittedly beautiful owl in, to confirm that he didn't want what they had to offer. None of the owls particularly interested him, especially considering he hadn't anyone to write to – _Wouldn't want anyone to know I'm in contact with a mysterious benefactor –_ and he didn't fancy a kneazel or toad. Passing by the section for snakes, Harry decided to take a peek after making sure the coast was clear. Wizards tended to react stupidly to Parselmouths.

Harry liked snakes far more than the average guy, yet still the ones in the store did not intrigue him. They were beautiful, yes, but not magnificent. Harry didn't know why he had the subconscious desire to be the best and have the best. Anyhow, Harry decided to converse with the snakes. Turns out they could understand wizarding languages, the magical snakes! While befriending them, a plan was slowly forming in his mind.

~]-\\_/-[~

 **1** **st** **September, 1991**

Packing up really wasn't a chore for Harry. He'd already arranged his new wardrobe in the absolutely marvelous trunk he'd discovered in his family vault. It wasn't the strongest or largest trunk in the vault; Harry chose it because it belonged to his grandfather, Charlus Potter, when he was an Unspeakable. Also packed were Harry's wildly unfashionable uniforms and his collection of school tomes, which he had already gone through. _A month is a long time for a bored magical child in a muggle home._

Harry's memory was always quite the bit above ordinary, Harry having been somewhat of a genius as a child, and him not having suppressed his intellectual talents only saw to its betterment. His attempts at meditation and occlumency, though, clearly had an effect as Harry could, to a reasonable degree, recall the contents of all his school tomes. Such a realization would normally have caused the young lord to note the importance of learning the mind arts had he not discovered, carefully secluded in a corner of his vault, an exemplary tome detailing the mind arts!

 _Magiks of the Minde, Vol I_ looked to Harry a positively ancient tome, what with its dry, borderline crumbling pages and messy scrawl. It was clear to Harry that the tome was really just an account of one of his ancestors, most likely never published, and that excited Harry. Who knew what secrets lay within? And so, after meticulously studying his school tomes, Harry dedicated a good portion of his time to studying the tome. His progress, however, did not extend very far.

Harry had decided that if he was going to learn magic, he was going to learn it well and that extended to learning occlumency. In that sense, he spent a good few days deciphering the opening chapters introducing the concepts of occlumency and the types of occlumists, followed by a deep understanding of meditation he was close to deciphering. Harry had taken to spending at least an hour every night in as close to true meditation as he could get and no doubt about it, he had felt a slow sort of change about his mental recessed. It was a small change but he could think – for lack of a better word – faster, his thoughts were easier organized and his mind simply clearer.

Harry could see that even the base of occlumency had a myriad of positive effects and was determined to see his mastery of the art to the end. It even improved his increasing control of his elemental powers! Harry had experimented with them after discovering his beautiful wand to notice that his control has basically skyrocketed. He couldn't find any reason for it other than the presence of his wand, which gave him a sense of extreme magical capability, only another reason for him to investigate further. Considering that the wand practically molded itself to his skin – as a tattoo! – Harry guessed the benefits were permanent, and his forays into occlumency were just increasing them.

Harry noticed his affinity with his ice element was heavily tuned to his emotions. He could now spew out water from, really, any part of his body, though he hadn't explored more than a few, even at high velocities. He had been quite excited to test whether he could apply water-jet cutting; the neighbors' mysteriously broken fence saw to that. Harry was more than a bit impressed by his abilities and even more excited when imagining the possibilities he could reach as his elemental ability grew over the years.

Locking his trunk and promptly stuffing it down his pouch, Harry heaved a sigh thinking of the amount of effort he'd have to put in acting over the year and about whether or not his mysterious benefactor would be in touch. He'd said as much, though Harry couldn't fathom how he'd do it. Although he'd read about magic usage being illegal while underage, Harry was technically emancipated and as such tried his hand at magic with a wand. He'd already breezed through the majority of spells in _The Standard Book of Spells Grade One_ by Miranda Goshawk and had ordered the second year's tome – which included the shrinking charm – and proved no different.

Harry navigated the stairs to the door, intending to bid his relatives farewell. They'd taken it unsurprisingly well when he'd notified them of his emancipation, though were a bit put off when he'd also mentioned that he'd be staying with them until further notice. It wasn't that Harry loved them or anything, no, he just didn't want to alert any old meddlers to any notable going-ons in his life before he'd had a chance to remove all of the blasted charms and trackers on him.

"Alright then. I'll be off now and probably won't be back until the summer. Don't be too surprised if I decide to show up for Christmas, though. I'll let you know if I decide so. Now, be good Dudley. Try to run a bit more, will you? It'll do you heaps more good than Harry-Hunting ever did. And Aunt… _…_ Just goodbye, I guess. Don't miss me too much." Harry declared, winking and turning to his uncle.

"Uncle, it'd be best if we set off now," he said with a pointed look.

"We'd bloody best get on with it then," Vernon decided, setting off to the car with Harry in tow.

The ride was quiet, comfortably so and Vernon was only just noticeably happy to be rid of his nephew when Harry got off. Harry chuckled upon seeing the look. "Don't have too much fun while I'm gone, Uncle." And with that, he was gone.

~]-\\_/-[~

Finding the platform wasn't too hard, what with all the ridiculously dressed adults milling about it. Finally stepping onto the platform, Harry made sure his attire was appropriate – not standing out yet dressed as a Head of his House should – and that his unfathomably famous scar was well hidden and noticed the magical crowd segregated mostly into families whispering last words and a few groups of presumable muggleborns. Harry took a glance, recognized the vast majority of crests in sight – _Gotta love that Headship ring_ – and noted that he'd have to rectify his lack of knowledge.

A few glanced curiously his way upon noticing his lack of trunk and whatnot but must have presumed that a family member would be following with both of theirs and Harry was happy to leave them with their wrong conclusion. It wasn't too hard to find a free compartment, in fact, they were barely any occupied. Harry supposed he must've come a great deal early and so chose one and got down to work, grabbing his _Magiks of the Minde_ from the pouch to browse further.

He wasn't worried about anyone learning of what he was reading – learning the mind arts is illegal, apparently – as, according to the Dursleys, the brilliant tome appeared differently to them, a book laughably titled _Magic for Dummies_. He'd wondered whether he could apply the same concept to his wand and so summoned his wand and willed it to appear differently, more ordinary. It did so. Harry's asked Dudley about it and he'd nervously replied after being reassured that he wasn't going to do anything that it was brown, slightly rough, gnarled and about 11 inches long. Harry was understandably overjoyed. After all, it wouldn't do for anyone to take a glance at his wand and figure out his weaknesses or strengths.

He must've been quite engrossed in the tome as he hadn't noticed the knocking until a minute or two had passed. Now, Harry was quite cold and calculating but he wasn't ill-mannered. He rose to greet whoever was at the door and was surprised that he recognized the freckled face.

"Finally!" Lyanna exclaimed with a huff. "Took you damned long enough. What the hell were you doing in there anyways?" She questioned him while strolling past him into the compartment and only realized this when Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Oh. May I join you here? I don't really know anyone else…" she led off and Harry couldn't really refuse in good conscience. _Might as well give friendship a go_ , he shrugged _._

"Why not? I wasn't really occupied anyway. Here," Harry greeted, helping her with her luggage.

"Thanks for that," Lyanna said, when she caught sight of an odd book lying near the boy opposite her. "What's that you're reading, Harry?"

Sparing a glance at the book and recalling what it was supposed to look like, Harry responded, "Just something I ordered from the Alley. After reading the _For Dummies_ muggle books, I knew there must've been a muggleborn who would've written something similar and ta-da. Not very helpful, though. I wouldn't recommend it."

"Ah. I'll take your advice then. Have you read through the year's selection, though?"

"Yeah, I've looked at it, not that it'd really help though. We aren't allowed to use magic after all."

"I know! At least I've read through the other subjects' tomes. Anyways, it's only less than a day's wait now. In fact, I reckon we're 'allowed' to use it right now. It _is_ a magical train."

"Guess we'll have to take a look then," Harry said with a wink. As Lyanna shot him an excited look, he made a motion as if he reached into his pocket and willed his wand to appear in its shifted appearance, hoping she'd forgotten how it looked previously. Tough luck, judging from her momentarily widened eyes. He'd just have to expect a talk sometime in the future.

Lyanna's wand soon joined his in the air and they both intoned " _Lumos!"_ , happy to be greeted by two bright lights. They waited a minute, frozen, then shared a grin. Harry retook his seat and Lyanna followed suit.

"Don't mind me for a while now. I'll be trying my hand at meditation." Harry smirked at Lyanna's scoff and had just settled down to begin the process when the door to the compartment was quite rudely slammed open and they were greeted to the sight of a tall-for-their-age, lanky redhead who seemed – to Harry – to be faking an apologetic expression, though Lyanna didn't seem to pick up on the horrible deception. Harry narrowed his eyes. He thought himself a rather fair judge of character and could immediately guess the type of greedy, selfish, glory-seeking creature the redhead appeared to be - underneath all the deception, if the small deception was anything to go by. Harry had no use for side-kicks or the like.

"Do you mind if I join you here? The rest of the train is kind of full." The redhead stated. His request was punctuated by the whistle of the train.

Lyanna replies before Harry has a chance to. "Sure. Come right in!" she blared enthusiastically.

The boy unsurprisingly – to Harry – doesn't pay much attention to Lyanna's acceptance, instead looking to Harry for his opinion. And Harry gave his in the form of a cool stare and tightened lips. It was then that Lyanna realized she hadn't even consulted Harry, when it was his compartment in the first place! Still, it did troubled her that he appeared so distrustful towards the new boy, even if he'd borderline ignored her just before.

The boy seemingly understood Harry's direction yet finally chose to act on Lyanna's and tentatively entered the compartment, sitting on Lyanna's side. Harry ignored him and by proxy was forced to ignore Lyanna as well. She definitely didn't seem too happy about his frosty exterior but seemed to understand that he was inherently untrusting of newcomers.

"Hi!" the boy exploded, "I'm Ron. Ronald Weasley. What're your names?"

Lyanna took that cue to introduce herself. "I'm Lyanna Willis."

Harry just ignored the happenings and went back to his tome. Lyanna didn't really like that but kept it to herself.

The newly introduced Ron seemed a bit unsure of himself in the face of Harry's apparent apathy but recovered quickly. "Have you heard? Harry Potter's on the train! Where do you reckon he's at?" Ron babbled.

This time, Harry intercepted Lyanna with his ironic denial. "No idea. We haven't stepped outside this compartment the whole ride and he didn't come in, I'm sure."

Ron seemed a bit tripped up at that. Lyanna seemed to understand why Harry was being so hard on Ron, but it appeared that her temper more than matched that understanding.

"Shut up, Harry!" she bellowed, sending a glare in his direction. "Ron, this anti-social blockhead is Harry Potter, the one you were looking for." Ron received his own glare for that.

 _Fiery redheads and all that…._ He looked at the two in front of him. _Guess there's some truth to that, huh?_

Ron apparently caught himself before Harry could exchange some heated words with Lyanna, and though he did seem quite unhappy that Harry had basically lied to him earlier, he sucked it up and exploded into a new, infuriating line of questioning.

"Harry POTTER?! Are you kidding me? So can I see it?"

"See what?" Harry's _really_ didn't like where this was going.

"The scar, you know, the scar You-Know-Who gave you!"

Harry didn't reply and returned his attention to his tome, yet his irritation was displayed in his somehow even frostier eyes. Ron apparently didn't like being ignored once he'd started on the 'right track' and decided to needle Harry a bit further.

"Do you remember it? Any of it? How about what You-Know-Who looks like? Wow, I wouldn't want to forget that if I were you…" Ron trailed off dreamily.

That last line snapped Harry's attention back to him, but it wasn't any kind of good attention. "Yeah, cause that's what I love doing, isn't it? I picture the scene every night, that monster cackling as he murdered my parents and forcing me – as a baby to – watch their love-filled faces hit the ground. Absolutely, I value those memories so highly, they're worth more than the contents of your family vault!"

There was no noise in the compartment for a while, what with Harry's prompt returning of his attention to his tome, Lyanna gasping in horror as if she'd never really understood _why_ he didn't like Ron so much – which she probably hadn't, all naïve and innocent that she was; she had to respect Harry for being such an excellent judge of character at the minimum, though – and Ron who was slowly turning a not entirely unfamiliar red, though whether it was out of anger at being rebuked and quite firmly put in place, the slight jab at his family's finances or out of a deep sense of embarrassment. Ron's glare at Harry the next minute helped confirm one of the theories.

Harry chose to lose himself in his tome for a bit after sharing a – sympathetic? – glance with Lyanna. It seemed it'd been a noticeable stretch of time in an uncomfortable silence when the door to the compartment slid open and they were greeted by the unpleasant sight of the snobbish boy they had met at Madam Malkin's a month before.

The boy seemed that he was about to say something, then recognized us and sneered. "Ah, if it isn't the mudblood," he glanced around the compartment there and focused on Ron, "And her friends. Ha! The Weasel would make a great companion for you. Can't be a pathetic side-kick on you own, can you Weasel?"

"And there he is, the mudblood sympathizer! You don't seem like a mudblood, but too poor for a pureblood…. A half-blood then? Ha! No better than filth anyways, then. Have you heard, anyhow, of Harry Potter being on this train? I'd wanted to meet him before he got corrupted by trash like you, Weasel!"

All eyes slowly shifted over to Harry, who coughed slightly before fixing a cool stare at the boy. "Alright then. I'm Harry Potter, half-blood. And you are…."

"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. A pure-blood."

"Am I supposed to know who you are?" Harry looked decidedly uninterested, yet not mocking.

Draco seemed surprised. "Yes!" he yelled, "The Malfoys are an influential family in the wizarding world." He met Harry's cool stare. "Let me tell you something, Potter. Some people in the wizarding world are much better than others. I can show you what it means to be a proper wizard if you like." Draco extended his arm as if offering a deal but Harry really wasn't too impressed, though he didn't show it, what not about a _proper_ wizard… _…_ He merely raised an eyebrow.

"As honored as I am to have someone show me how things are done at Hogwarts, I'd rather see it myself before rushing into any kind of judgment," Harry stated firmly. Draco retracted his arm, recognizing the statement for what it was, a refusal. Lyanna giggled softly behind her hand at the scene, wondering why Harry would turn down such an _influential_ wizard's offer, knowing somewhere in the back of her mind that it had something to do with him called her mud-blood filth. The thought he would do something thinking of her brightened her mood slightly.

Draco looked at the other occupants of the compartment again. "You'd best be careful who you hang out with, Potter, or you may end up like your parents."

Draco only had the time to see Harry tightening his jaw and to realize he's just made a big mistake before he was blasted out of the carriage, courtesy of Harry's smoking wand. He landed on his arse on top of his two incompetent bodyguards, who he hadn't introduced. It seemed, however, that Draco's patience for insults was shorter than his regret at such a mistake and he rose, glaring hatefully at Harry. "You'll pay for that, Potter." He snarled before storming off with his bodyguards trailing behind.

Harry seemed unconcerned with the confrontation, though, and merely turned his attention back to his tome, though he was interrupted before he could get any farther.

"That was amazing magic! Can you show me that?" Ron seemed quite overly excited and he'd started to fray at Harry's substantial patience.

"Sure. Until next time, then." Harry raised his wand and before he realized it, Ron was floating his way out of the compartment, where he was dropped unceremoniously on the floor before the door slid shut and locked itself. Ron was speechless and insulted by that and he stalked off, grumbling, to find another compartment.

"That was mean, Harry." Lily remarked, having looked over her own school tome at the scene.

"Don't tell me he didn't deserve it. I didn't even blast him away, for god's sake! And why're you even defending him?" Harry demanded, rounding on her.

"No! I'm not defending him. It's just… He didn't seem that bad a guy."

"No one does at first." He threw her a meaningful look. "In case you weren't aware, there _was_ more than enough space on the train for him to find himself a compartment. No, he came here looking for us, looking for me and you gave him that! That's the type of guy that'd hang out with someone just for their fame and I'm not planning to have a gaggle of idiots trailing behind me."

"Oh," she said in a small voice. "Sorry about that."

Harry exhaled slowly. "No matter. Just pay attention to the people you associate with from now on, will you?" He received a firm nod in reply. He was happy that he managed to convince the girl to pay closer attention to the manipulative bastards around them. He gave her a nod of his own and settled back to start the meditation he'd been planning to do a quarter of an hour before.

Meditation doesn't really feel like much until you go really deep into it, which is what occlumency needed, but Harry hadn't reached that stage yet so he assumed it'd been a couple hours when he regained functionality.

Lyanna noticed his movement and just then Harry's stomach rumbled. She giggled and indicated that she was similarly hungry. Harry smiled lightly. There was a knock on the compartment door and they were lucky enough to recognize the Honeydukes Express.

The elderly witch smiled warmly at them. "Anything off the trolley, dears?"

The two young magicals collaborated to buy most of everything the witch had and ended up sharing the delightful snacks in silence. Harry was feeling quite warm that he'd apparently managed to make his first friend, while Lyanna was happy that Harry wasn't a cold, rude fellow like she was worried about and just a nice guy to those he was comfortable with – she remembered the trip with Professor McGonagall.

Their companionable silence was interrupted when the compartment door slid open to reveal a bushy-haired brunette looking at them in a slightly bossy manner. Harry wasn't too impressed.

"Excuse me but has any of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville has lost his," the girl questioned.

"Haven't seen it. Though, wouldn't it be a good idea to go one of the prefects and ask them to summon it back for him? It'd take forever to scour the entire train." Harry suggested and then promptly ignored her, returning his attention to the tome in hand.

The girl seemed remarkably impressed with his suggestion and was about to go do just that when she caught sight of his _Magic for Dummies_. "Oh!" She nearly squealed. "Are you studying magic? Do you know any?"

Harry looked at her and humbly replied, "I've not yet had any chance to practice any, though the both of us have read through the school's selection." Lyanna quietly scoffed at that. She'd just seen him levitate a wizard – even if he was just a boy – out of the compartment and she was pretty sure that's miles above what most first years on the train could do.

"Well, I've already learned all the spells in our books. They come naturally to me, though I was quite surprised about that as I'm the first magical in my family. My parents were so proud when they learnt I was a witch! But do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around and Gryffindor sounds like the best but I guess I could also do well in Ravenclaw, it doesn't sound too bad." The girl rambled, spitting it all out in one breath.

"With how much you seem to appreciate reading, I'd think you'd fit in well in Ravenclaw. But why do you want to be in Gryffindor?" Lyanna queried, just the slight bit curious about the unexpected girl.

"Huh. Never thought of it that way…" The girl was silent for a few seconds before she noticed Lyanna. "Oh! Well, it's mostly because Dumbledore was in it, don't you know? He's like the greatest wizard of modern times. Many claim he's the strongest on the planet!" The girl gushed.

Harry was more than a bit unimpressed by that pathetic answer. He raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure I can name a hell of a number of brilliant witches and wizards from each of the houses. That doesn't mean that all of the houses themselves are wonderful. It'd do you some good to think of where you might actually fit in rather than chase someone else's shadow." Harry seemed to be on a roll with the solid advice.

"Well I think Gryffindor is great, I'll probably end up there. I'm Lyanna Willis, by the way, and this wise young man is Harry Potter," she ended, gesturing at Harry.

"Harry Potter! I'm Hermione Granger, by the way. I know all about you! I've read about you in _Modern Magical History_ , _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ , and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_."

Harry didn't much appreciate being told this. He narrowed his eyes and decided to go easy on the girl – she wasn't deluded on purpose, probably just raised that way. "Oh? You know all about me, is it? Tell me then, Hermione, how the authors of these books knew anything about me. As far as I know, and I _know_ this, I didn't take any interviews when I was 15 months old and there was sure as shot nobody there to witness the incident themselves. So how then do they _know_ what happened? And I've been living with my muggle relatives all my life, out of contact with any magicals" – _Nobody needs to know of my mysterious benefactor_ – "so how then do they know _anything_ about me?"

Hermione looked as if she'd been slapped hard on the face, twice and even Lyanna looked the least bit startled by the implications. "But, but that can't…." Hermione trailed off in growing despair.

"Not everything you read is true, you know. Until next time, then, Hermione." With those parting wise words, Harry turned back to his tome for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last couple hours.

Hermione understood the clear dismissal, thanked the two of them for Harry's advice and rushed out of the compartment. It seems Harry's logical shattering of her faith in books hurt her quite thoroughly. Harry just shrugged and glanced at Lyanna. He couldn't really decipher her expression.

"It's getting dark, do you reckon we're there?" Lyanna ventured.

Harry glanced out the window and declared, "Most likely, best we change now."

Lyanna didn't know whether it was to tease her or just because he wasn't aware of social cues but Harry had stood up and started taking off his sweater and T-shirt.

"W-What are you doing!" Lyanna stuttered in embarrassment.

Harry turned to her with a raised eyebrow and a barely noticeable smirk. "Just changing, Freckles. What? See something you like?" He was smirking openly by now and was quite satisfied with her reddening visage. In fact, he was so satisfied that he didn't even object to being pushed out of the compartment to allow the 'lady' to change. Harry just nonchalantly finished changing in the middle of the corridor, uncaring of who saw.

The girls in the nearby compartments were quite understandably surprised to see someone changing in the middle of the corridor without a care in the world. Just that confidence was kind of hot – girls tend to get hormonal pretty early indeed! – and that lean body was doing whoever he was a number of favors. They just enjoyed the show while it lasted and were determined to find out who the hot, mystery boy was. And thus began the start of Harry's fan club, but that's a story for another time.

~]-\\_/-[~

 **A Short While Later**

Harry noticed while standing in the crowd of soaked first years that he hadn't been paying attention to who he'd ridden with in the boat. _Eh, no matter. I'll get started on making acquaintances real soon._ He noticed, spying Lyanna next to him who had stayed by his side since they got off the train, that the rain seemed to be affecting her worse than the others, excluding him of course. The rain only made _him_ feel stronger. He recalled his moments near flames of any kind or in the hot sun and how unbearably draining they were and wondered whether the girl next to him was the fire elemental he would be looking for. _Wonder if she's been practicing… Fire_ seems _so much more dangerous than ice. Wait. Does she even know it?_ He looked at her again. _Something for another time, then._

Lyanna, who had been paying attention to the Granger girl's incessant babbling about what sort of tests the sorting could take after and what were the best houses to go to after the Professor's speech about the Hogwarts houses, turned to Harry. He raised an eyebrow.

"So, what house are you expecting? You never did mention it on the train…"

"You seem to be hoping for Gryffindor, if I understand correctly. I hope the place will be good for you at the least. I'm not certain how brilliant it would be to be surrounded by idiots who test the boundaries of idiocy in the name of bravery every day. No, although Hufflepuff _does_ sound nice, I'm expecting Slytherin."

"I see. Well, good luck to you then, in case we _do_ end up in different houses."

Harry gave a nod in return, just as Professor McGonagall reemerged from where she and Hagrid, the big lovable giant, had been sharing a few words. She seemed a good part sterner than the day she'd taken the two of them to the Alley as she'd raked over the lot of them with a critical eye.

"It is time. Now then, form a line of two and follow me. Quickly now."

Harry got in line behind a dark-haired boy who came across as a pureblood. Lyanna was in the line next to him, and he spotted Granger two spots behind. McGonagall took off then, with long strides and the rest of them struggled to catch up. They passed by a set of large oaken-looking doors and were enchanted by the ceiling, perhaps even more heavily than _it_ was. The sight of thousands of candles floating above, opening into the night sky was beautiful and his respect for the founders just grew than bit more.

Harry heard Granger whisper, "That ceiling is enchanted to look like the night sky. I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_ ," to more than a few students' awe.

Harry noticed Lyanna peering ahead and caught sight of the Professor setting down a dusty, frayed old hat upon a three-legged stool. He watched curiously as its 'mouth' opened and it burst into a delightful song. He couldn't help but be more than just a little impressed at the founders.

At the end of the surprisingly welcoming song, the entire hall, including the not-so-terrified-anymore first-years, burst into applause. Professor McGonagall then strode forward with a roll of parchment and, glancing at the assembled first-years, spelled out a few instructions.

"When I call your name, you will step forward and sit down on the stool while I place the hat on you. When the hat calls out your house, you will join that table. Abbott, Hannah."

A blonde with pink cheeks and her hair in pigtails stumbled forward and sat down. The hat waited a few seconds, then called out loudly, "HUFFLEPUFF." The hall broke out in polite applause with the hufflepuffs cheering the loudest. Hannah made her way to the table sporting a yellow flag featuring a badger and her robes changed to sport the same yellow - Hufflepuff house colors – on her way there.

And so on went the sorting. That is, until Professor McGonagall called out, "Potter, Harry." There was a palpable feeling of anticipation in the air, Harry could feel it, as the eyes of the hall shifted as one to land on the confident boy striding towards the stool. Harry gazed at the mass of students and professors in the few seconds before the hat met his head and noticed awe, interest and – _Take that you meddling bastard!_ – confusion. And then he saw black.

' _Ah, now what is it we have here? The mind of the famous Harry Potter…_ _…_ _Good to know it hasn't gotten to your head. Now let me see here. You've got a brilliant mind, you'd definitely do well in Ravenclaw – dare I say I expect great things from a prodigy like you. You've courage in spades, not one to bow to undeserving authority, that's Gryffindor's approval right there. You're undoubtedly loyal to those you trust and you're not one to look down on hard work, Hufflepuff wouldn't be so bad really. No….'_ Started the Sorting Hat.

' _What is it? Something to do with Slytherin, I presume?'_

' _Aren't you a sly one? Yes, the traits of a Slytherin revolve around cunning, guile and ambition and you seem to have them all in spades and more! Yes, you would do well there….. Oh my! An Elemental – of Frost?! I don't believe the world has seen one in the last millennium, if ever. I see you've taken the time to understand your abilities but you are still at the tip of the iceberg – you are capable of so much more…_ _…_ _And you're a Parselmouth. Nice job with that, by the way. Now then, this, more than anything, proves to me that you belong in Slytherin.'_

Harry was quite content with the hat's reasoning and so decided to move onto more important matters before the 'session' is cut to a close.

' _Alright then, now that the sorting's been decided, tell me wise hat how it is you're reading my mind? Is it_ legilimency _of some sort? You obviously don't require eye contact.'_

' _I'll humor your curiosity, Elemental. Indeed, I am a construct capable of performing advanced legilimency of the highest degree. I understand you've a deep desire to study the mind arts, perhaps it has something to do with your affinity for them?'_

' _Affinity? What are you talking about? I've been practicing for a month now and I've barely scratched the surface of Occlumency.'_

' _Agreed, but realize this. It normally takes a wizard_ years _to perfect the technique. I reckon you'll make more than decent headway within the year and you've never attempted legilimency, have you? I believe that's where you're natural affinity lies. Those are extremely rare, I'll have you know, just as your skill of Parseltongue, though not nearly as rare as your status as an Elemental.'_

' _I see. Thank you for educating me on that matter, Hat, though I wonder why you're encouraging a student to learn 'illegal' techniques. Would you happen to know how I might practice legilimency as such? I would rather make full use of any talent of mine.'_

The hat let out a chuckle within their 'mindscape'. ' _It's been centuries and you're the first to ask me for any help. Alright then, Harry, I'll help you. Call for me when you're ready for a chat.'_

Harry paused for a second to absorb the fact that this legendarily old, sentient artifact had just basically offered to teach him. Who knew what stores of knowledge it held, having been made by the founders themselves?

' _Right. But before we go, if you've noticed I'm an Elemental, you've seen my suspicions about a year-mate of mine. What do you plan to do about that?'_

' _Miss Willis, wasn't it? Indeed, I shall seek confirmation for your suspicions though I doubt that will have too much of an effect on her sorting. From what you've seen, she's a Gryffindor, what with her temper, and she wants to join Gryffindor. That's all I need.'_

' _Right. How do I contact you, though? I'd thought you'd be confined to the Headmaster's office for the rest of the year.'_

' _You are correct, of course. The thing is, I_ can _move around the school – I am connected to the castle, after all. I know you can spread your magic and feel out Hogwarts' sentient core, though I'd warn you not to do so near the Headmaster or the Potions master. Just ask for my presence once you've reached Hogwarts' core and she'll send me your way. Well then, I believe that's that. Until next time, Harry.'_

The hat then drew himself from their chat and bellowed to the twitching occupants of the hall – Harry's 'sorting' had been going on for nearly ten minutes! That's borderline legendary. How complex could you get, really? – "SLYTHERIN!"

There was a stilled silence in the hall for a few moments as Harry lifted the Hat off his head and placed it back on the stool. It continued as he turned, standing at his full height, to gaze at the body before him in such a way that though he was the presence on stage, they were the ones being judged, and was broken only when a Slytherin rose from their table and brought his hands together in applause as Harry's robes shifted to represent his house in color. Then the applause roared, though Harry could tell it was decidedly muted from some of the houses in the hall.

Harry noted Gryffindor's stunned looks among the disappointed ones, some of them angry but the over-dramatic cries of apparent anguish of a pair of redheaded – same color as Ron, must be family – twins, which amusingly contrasted so strongly against his own house's cry of "We got Potter!"

But Harry gave no indication that he'd noticed this as he made his way to the table of the Serpent. He passed by many a senior giving him an appraising eye and as he strolled confidently past them, he knew he would be having words with many quite soon. Harry chose to seat himself near the other first years, but not too close, near a Daphne Greengrass and opposite a sneering Theodore Nott.

He looked around, paying attention to the sorting even as he appeared not to and keeping note of the going ons. Maintaining a journal would be brilliant but Harry wasn't a fool – _What idiot writes his thoughts and leaves them in the Snake Pit?_ – and he had faith in what occlumency could show him. Harry glanced at the Professors' table, his eyes straying over the giant form of Hagrid and sliding over to Professor Flitwick. He observed the others, making a note to gather information where he had holes and to ensure his schemes were in effect.

When Harry caught the gaze of the benevolent, grandfatherly – _Bastard of a_ \- Headmaster he made sure not to gaze into his eyes for over a second, and even think deceptive thoughts in that time, such as how brilliant he hoped the feast would be. He ventured to observe the Potions Master of the school and was rather unimpressed with his overall demeanor. Bat-like features including a magnificently hooked nose peppered with greasy hair the kind muggle mechanics would die for. Once the man noticed Harry's gaze, he glared balefully at Harry at first, though he seemed to pause somewhere down the line and his glare became less hateful. Harry made sure not to keep eye contact for too long there as well.

Harry payed attention to the 'Weasel's' sorting and was rather unsurprised to see him placed in Gryffindor. But Harry was far more interested in Lyanna's. She took longer than most, nearing five minutes, not even close to how long his took, but he was glad to see her placed in Gryffindor, where she wanted to be. It didn't hurt that that same occurrence confirmed his suspicions courtesy of the Hat.

The sorting ended all too soon with the arrival of another Slytherin, a Blaise Zabini, and Harry listened as the Headmaster announced his rather pathetic speech. _He definitely wants us to explore that third floor corridor. Blasted old man!_ Harry noticed the mentions of the Forbidden Forest and how it was forbidden, but he was sure he could find a way to nullify the risks – he had a plan for that – as venturing into that forest was necessary for another of his plans.

As the feast was winding up, Harry noticed the Malfoy from the train across the table a small distance away. He stood as the boy approached him and extended a hand. _Better allies than enemies in the same house_.

"Start over?" Harry tried. They shook.

"Draco Malfoy. Nice to make your acquaintance."

"Harry Potter. The pleasure is mine."

The brief exchange caught the interest of a few of their year mates but they all had already risen with the rest of the house to follow the prefects back to their common room. Harry tried his best to memorize the route but he had the feeling he would just get lost again in the morning in any case.

The prefect intoned the password to the secret door in the dungeons, "Purity" and Harry found himself inside the expansive common room. He noticed it was rather tastefully decorated, though the colors were the slightest bit drab and there was a complete lack of windows, but that was to be expected – it _was_ located in the dungeons, after all.

"Welcome to the Slytherin Common Room. This is where we Slytherins gather for social events or homework. We have our own library of sorts that will help you for the seven years you will stay here. Your belongings have already been placed here. Take them to your assigned rooms before you go to bed. The boys are on the right and the girls on the left. However, before you go to bed, you will first hear some words from our Head of House, Professor Snape." Explained a prefect.

Harry listened to the prefects' instructions and lined up with his year mates, awaiting their Head of House, the Potions Master he'd found unpleasant earlier. Just as he finished his instructions, the wall opened up and their Head of House glided in with his robes billowing away, all bat-like. He turned to look at them.

"Welcome to the Ancient and Noble House of Salazar Slytherin. For more than ten centuries, this noble house has commanded the respect of the wizarding world with pride. I trust that each and every single one of you will bring honor to this house and give it your best behavior at all times. Slytherins are united and we must show that to everyone in public. If you have a problem with someone inside the house, deal with it in the Slytherin Dueling Dungeon. It will be settled there and only there. If I find out that you have done otherwise, the consequences will be severe, right up to expulsion. Now, I expect you all to understand three rules that are to be followed always and kept in mind if you count yourself a true Slytherin. First, be polite to all parties regardless of your feelings towards them. Second, if you are doing something not allowed, make sure that you do not get caught. I will not have you shaming the name of our house. Third, Slytherins do not tolerate those who put themselves above others. When you address me, it shall be as 'Sir' or 'Professor'. I will be fair with you as you have my trust… for now. If you break my trust, however, you will find your stay at Hogwarts… _difficult_. It matters not how famous you are, which circles your family is in or how rich you are," here the Professor swept his gaze over them and one or two noticeably shivered; Harry found that the Professor's eye rested on him a moment too long wondered what his deal was, "you break the rules and you will not have a kind stay in the House of Salazar Slytherin. Now then, choose your roommate before you go to bed. Off to bed with the lot of you!" With that, he glided off into the night – as far as the shaken first years could tell – all robes billowing.

Harry, who had expected to be swarmed with the boys was quite surprised to see the rapidly approaching form of – _What was him name again? …Paste?_

"Nice to finally make your acquaintance. My name's Blaise Zabini, in case you didn't catch it earlier." Harry merely nodded, then raised an eyebrow, prompting the unfamiliar boy to explain his reason for choosing to room with Harry.

"Malfoy will be rooming with Theodore Nott, the guy slouching on the side. They were close friends from before, or so I heard. I sure as hell ain't planning on living with Crabbe or Goyle. God knows that goldfishes are blessed a higher IQ! You're clearly the better choice. I hope we get along," Blaise said with a decidedly neutral smile.

Harry, who'd been convinced by his sound reasoning, nodded slightly. "Likewise."

The pair of them took off to their room – it was assigned – and Harry chose the bed nearest the ventilation. If he couldn't actually have water, he'd be cool instead. Blaise didn't seem to mind and retreated to his newly chosen side of the room. Harry made his way over to his own bed, making sure to keep his pouch comfortably close as he settled in. The dreams closed in on him before he was even aware of it and his last thoughts were of irritation. He hadn't planned to fall asleep so soon.

There was so much to do, after all. The Hat was waiting.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Right. So I'll be responding to any reviews directly in case you've a question or so. Anyways, thanks for reading!


	5. Hogwarts Gets Trolled

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of this, aside from my own characters and my own plot. JK Rowling does.

Moving on, thanks for your reviews and favs/follows so far. Great motivation! I've not really received many ideas yet, though I'll be trying for the ones I have, so be sure to let me know if you've got anything. Also, keep in that so far this story has _not_ been beta read. If anybody's up for it, I'd love to have you!

I'll keep my apologies for the not-so-brief hiatus short. It was a bad case of procrastination and writer's block.

Things to note about this chapter: I've made it so that the flying lesson is shifted two weeks further into the term than in canon. Check the AN at the bottom for the 'spoilerless' explanations.

And that's that. So without further ado:

* * *

 **Hogwarts Gets Trolled**

 **A Few Days Into Term**

Insofar as to Harry's experience of magical education, there wasn't really much to say. Not that the school was not up to standards – _An unfair comparison, really. Not much is up to_ my _standards, after all_ – but Harry simply couldn't feel any of the boundless, exhilarating excitement exuded by the vast majority of his peers. Then again, considering the nature of circumstances that generally caused Harry to feel excited, that was probably a good thing.

Gliding down the empty corridor, Harry made sure to pay close attention to his surroundings. He was here, wandering about as first-years are oft to do, for a reason and he was determined to succeed in the endeavour. Never let it be said that Harry's innate genius curbed his determination. Though the task was slowly progressing, the pace at which he was doing so was infuriating. _Damn this castle and its magical twisting ways!_

Indeed, Harry had, in fact, wrestled some manner of control over his bouts of accidental magic to such a degree that it could factually be referred to as wandless magic. In doing so, his unexpectedly – for some, who still had no idea of the change – unbound magical core had evolved, per say, in a manner as to be better saturated with the ethereal energies wizardkind has managed to weaponize and integrate into their daily, unremarkable lives. Not only is Harry's personal magic denser and more potent than the average wizard – let's be honest, it's more concentrated than most anyone alive, really – but he is better attuned to the wisps of those same ethereal energies lingering in the atmosphere. Not much of a sensor but Harry certainly could detect magical presences, an ability he was graciously making use of in his struggles to further his magical awareness.

Mindful of the Hat's instructions, Harry had set out to locate the castle's sentient core – _And what a find that would be!_ – manually. His initial attempts to spread out his magic firstly did not, in fact, cover too much of a distance – his magical capacity had not yet stopped developing – and ended up confusing the boy even further, though in hindsight, said outcome should have been expected. In a magical castle saturated with magical humans, home to more than a few sentient, non-living magical beings and near a magical forest hosting a daunting array of magical creatures, the number of different magical signatures present in the vicinity alone raised great trepidation within the young wizard.

There was, however, a positive gleaned from this failure of an experiment. With every interaction of his magic with the magical aura of another magical creature or being, Harry gains a greater awareness of his inherent aptitude to feel out the differences between said magical beings. Taking advantage of this startlingly useful discovery naturally found itself on Harry's priority list.

Deciding to continue the search at a later date, Harry ambled his way back to the Slytherin Common Room. He sighed quietly at the inherent stupidity of his generation's Slytherin House as he whispered the not-so-subtly racist password to their secret door and entered the large room. Crossing the distance to his room, Harry made sure to greet the influential students on his path – he intended to make allies, not enemies – and entered his room to find his roommate nestled comfortably on his bed, eyes sweeping the page of a tome Harry hadn't seen before.

"Back already from your adventuring?" The boy questioned, eyes finding Harry's own.

"It wouldn't be much fun if I finished so soon, would it?" Harry retorted eyebrow raised. "Better leave something for my future self to enjoy."

"A sentiment I can appreciate," the boy agreed, closing his tome and placing it carefully on his side-table. "Well, we've got an hour or so before dinner. Up for some homework?"

"Finished already," Harry returned, a grin to match the boy's appearing on his face. "Good luck. McGonagall knows you'll need it." The boy huffed, looking not the least bit happy about his immediate future. "I'll be off to the shower now, Blaise. Don't wait up."

With that, Harry left the room for some privacy with his element. In the week he'd been at the castle, he'd yet to find a private, comfortable location where he'd be able to practice his Frost Elemental abilities. _For a magical school, there's a mind-blowing lack of privacy around here._ Harry had decided that secrecy was the matter of most import regarding his status as an Elemental and he had no desire to be exposed as such any time soon. Fortunately – or unfortunately, looking at it another way – Harry had deemed the showers the only acceptable place to practice. _And to think of standards….._

A little over an hour later saw Harry exiting his common room, on his way to the great hall. Caught up in his musings of what dastardly plans he had a stirring, he was unable to escape collision with another oblivious soul. Rubbing his head in exasperation, Harry focused on the form the groaning girl in front of him.

"Freckles?" He probed, eyes widened slightly. He hadn't caught hide nor hair of her since the sorting ceremony – _Not that I'd been looking_. He extended a hand to help her steady herself.

Taking the hand, Lyanna groaned, also rubbing her head, and looked up to find Harry peering at her. "Harry?"

Letting go of her now that she was standing fine, Harry confirmed his identity with a slow nod. Not that he was apprehensive at all regarding the status of their pseudo-friendship, Harry still wondered what damage her fellow Gryffindors had done. _It really is quite stupid, the shunning of one-fourth of the student body that Slytherin suffers from. And Gryffindor's apparently always been the worst about it. Something to work towards, perhaps?_

"Where have you been lately? I haven't seen you once – once! – since the sorting ceremony! Have you been slithering around, embroiled in the snakey ways of your evil housemates?" She challenged him.

Harry raised an eyebrow, unsure about her statement. _Is that sarcasm I smell or have her idiot housemates infected her with their idiocy so soon?_

"Really?" Harry asked dryly. "'Embroiled in the snakey ways of my evil housemates'? Is that what they're saying about me? What's next? I'm the next Dark Lord?"

The snort Lyanna tried to hide behind her hand was quickly forgotten at her mild surprise regarding his last guess.

"Great. I wonder who's come up with that brilliant theory." Harry deadpanned, starting to redefine his boundaries of his schoolmates' idiocy. If only he knew how often he'd be doing just that….

Lyanna could only hold his gaze for a moment before turning away. Harry sighed. _If she's not going to tell me, I'll just have to find out myself. Can't have such nasty rumours floating about._

"Anyway, where _have_ you been? Seriously. If you think you get to miss classes just because you're famous, I'm sure you've got another thing coming."

Harry just shot her a blank stare. "I've been in all my classes. If you weren't so focussed on being the best, you would've noticed me there."

At least she had the decency to look sheepish. Whatever remark she would've made was cut off by a low rumbling coming from Harry's stomach. Now it was Harry's turn to look sheepish, though her few snickers only served to raise the slight annoyance lingering from her earlier statements.

"Well then, if that's all, I believe I've got a meal to attend. You don't want to stand in the way of my hunger, now, do you?" Taking her slight smile as some sort of signal, the unlikely pair made their way to their respective tables largely unnoticed.

* * *

While Harry's week had been spent examining his new environment, Lyanna had been having a great time. Though she was away from her father – she preferred to call him Dad privately – Hogwarts was simply a new experience altogether. And the best part was that she _knew_ that it had only just begun. She was sure – no, she had a feeling there was so much more in store for her in the majestic castle. She wasn't really sure where his feeling had come from, what with the strength of the emotion, but then again, that didn't really matter.

Lyanna, like a fair portion of kids, had a slight fear that she would be outcasted, friendless, forever alone. Unfortunately for her, it wasn't as if her schoolmates were lining up to befriend her. Luckily though, it didn't seem as if anyone had any problems with her either. She was, naturally, thinking mainly about her fellow Gryffindors, considering her housemates were the ones she'd be spending the majority of her time with. Though it had only been a week, Lyanna had already interacted with a fair number of her fellow first-years and as far as first impressions went, the 'brave' bunch didn't get off too bad.

Among their number, Lyanna found herself drifting more towards the boys in search of friendship. Where her roommates Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were gossipy and generally over-interested in their social lives and the ever-studious Hermione Granger was, well… studious and strict, the boys were on the whole much easier to relax with. She didn't really bear any will to any of them, even if Ronald 'Ron' Weasley had rubbed her wrong on the Hogwarts Express – though she didn't much enjoy Harry's method of dealing with him either. She would be having words with the Slytherin. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas were alright in her eyes and she didn't really mind Neville's shyness – it certainly wouldn't help him with the ladies, though. On the whole, Lyanna was pleasantly surprised with her entrance to both Gryffindor House and the magical world, even if she'd been stuck with a cold, slightly overaggressive child celebrity - but you don't always get what you want in life.

On the topic of said celebrity, Lyanna wasn't quite sure what to think of him. She'd spent barely two days with the boy, much less than the time she'd been spending trying to get to know her housemates better. Compared to the rest of them, he'd been cordial, not quite nice, but polite enough – to her. While it was debatable to her – the morality of his expelling of the boys in their compartment on the Hogwarts Express – and she might've even taken his side, though she'd never admit it – she didn't quite like the ease with which he'd judged them and shunted them out. She did remember what he'd said about Ron back then but had decided to form her own opinions seeing what kind of person he is – in the absence of rich celebrities.

Even so, their unexpected meeting before supper…. She wasn't quite sure about that, either. She hadn't tried to remain polite as he'd been before in her surprise at seeing him for the first time in forever – though she did wonder that their familiarity (however sparse it was) should've negated the need for such politeness – and had immediately demanded of him the idiotic theories that had started drifting about her common room – she could recognize the idiocy he'd been so unimpressed with in hindsight. Dark Lord. Really?

Though he had seemed borderline amused by the questions, she had a feeling a generally cold person like him wouldn't have appreciated it much. But Lyanna wasn't too concerned; they'd drifted off amicably after he'd apparently tried making a joke, which, in her opinion, went a long way to conveying his apparent tolerance of her. Shaking her head, Lyanna decided not to waste too much time uselessly thinking on the Slytherin. She'd form an opinion of him properly, over the many years they were stuck together in. _Starting preferably after bed_ , her traitorous mind thought, shutting off for the night while she valiantly fought to stay awake for just that little bit longer.

* * *

 **Three Weeks Into Term**

Harry sighed quietly, wiping off the sweat on his forehead. _It's just too bad that barely any wizards or witches take their physical conditioning seriously. Well, just more of an advantage for me._ Continuing on his track – which was changed daily both for unpredictability and better conditioning, courtesy of parkour – Harry made sure to saturate his surrounding with a healthy dose of his magic. He'd been getting better at it real slowly, but it'd been progress nonetheless. As his tracks generally curved along the edge of the Great Lake and the Forbidden Forest, Harry hoped his magic would be subtle enough not to provoke any of the undoubtedly aggressive and dangerous animals and perhaps to feel out their magical scent, which was what Harry had decided to liken the individuality between people's magical aura, per say. In all his time doing so, though, he hadn't had much of a success. _Guess I'll just have to brave the Forest or the Lake directly. It'll be a while before I'm certain I'd be able to handle whatever dangers have been lurking there._

Even better, Harry had realized that outside of the castle, on his various tracks near the Great Lake, with no observers – he assumed, correctly in this case – he'd be free to practise his Elemental abilities. It was slow going, though, and there hadn't been many noticeable improvements but Harry wasn't the type to simply give up.

There was a difference between giving up due to a lack of determination and hiding the extent of your abilities. Harry wasn't about to steal the spotlight any more than he'd already been thrust into it just by being born. He'd made sure in all his classes to succeed only after a few others had already gotten it. That wasn't to say that Harry wasn't able to do it though; he'd probably have been spending the majority of his time perfecting his techniques and polishing up his magical ability if that was so but Harry found such simple spells – he had been studying the second-years' syllabus, after all – not challenging. In more than a few classes, though, he'd found himself some apparent rivals of sorts. Harry wasn't sure what he'd done to inspire such determination to beat him in particular – perhaps aside from his apparent celebrity status – but it wasn't a bad thing to have more capable wizards in the world – as long as they were on his side, of course.

He'd found the efforts of the redhead – Tron-or-so? – as well as Malfoy quite amusing, yet his greatest surprise was Lyanna's sudden efforts to trounce him once she's discovered his presence in the class. _Well then, its just too bad for them that I won't be showing my best here._ Though it seemed that his current performance – top 5 of a considerable class – was enough to encourage their efforts.

But Harry didn't dwell too much on that. Over the last few weeks, they'd started nearly all of their first-year classes except one, which they'd be covering today, that is, flying class. Harry wondered how it would go, considering the number of stupid youngsters that would be attempting the act under the supervision of a single witch. He'd make sure to earn some goodwill in whatever situation he found himself in, both for his personal schemes and his promise to restore the Slytherin House. He was also slightly concerned about how his Frost Elemental status would influence his experiences in the air. _I guess time will tell._ He'd just wait and see.

~]-\\_/-[~

 **The Flying Lesson**

Lined up among his fellow Slytherins, opposite the clearly excitable Gryffindors, Harry sighed at the inherent stupidity of wizardkind. Now Harry had nothing against brooms or Quidditch but he did find it just slightly ludicrous that such a vast class involved with teaching – _generally idiotic_ – children the basics of flying – _on rackety old brooms, at that!_ **–** was supervised by a single witch who had started off the lesson without respect from nearly a quarter of them. _As if she would be enough to stop any trouble or infighting among this group by herself._

Harry set aside his pessimistic – though he would call it realism – thoughts and proceeded with the lesson. Observing the scene around him, Harry found that it was fairly common for the brooms to resist the calls of their would-be riders, with only the practised flyers achieving it. Mildly curious, after making sure no one was looking, Harry sent a tendril of his magic – one which hadn't been familiarising itself with his vast company's own magical auras – into the flying device and was pleasantly surprised to find that it shot up into his hand without further prompting. Against his better instincts, the 11-year-old within him couldn't help but be fascinated with the concept of flight and being the superior intellect that he was, dedicated what time before he had before the lesson truly began to probing the magic surrounding the broom in his hand. Though he was certain it would be ages before he'd be able to unravel the specific enchantments and runes in the device even with all his advantages, Harry was determined to see this new project through – _imagine the possibilities of unsupported flight!_

Alas, the lesson had begun and supporting Harry's pessimistic thoughts, there was an incident as soon as it began. A Gryffindor had managed to – in his blatant fear of flying – push off early but wasn't able to control his broom at all – _I wonder if that's got anything to do with how terrified he is -_ and managed to drop from a height of over 20 feet and only break his wrist – Harry had his own speculations for the peculiarity but that was for another time.

Madam Hooch gathered up the boy and took him off to the infirmary, ordering the rest of the class to stay firmly on the ground 'or else'. Harry scoffed. _Naivety at its finest._ His attention was, however, captured by Malfoy's gleeful smile as he approached what looked to be a fallen possession of the injured Gryffindor. Harry was certain this wouldn't end up well.

"Huh. A remembrall. Guess I should've expected a good-for-nothing Gryffindor like Longbottom to need one." Malfoy seemed to take exorbitant amounts of pleasure in taunting the Gryffindors, and by the looks of it, it was working.

As expected from the noble, brave Gryffindors, there came a heated reply but Harry was just the bit amused to find it came from Lyanna – _that fiery temper! Though it should be expected; she is a fire elemental after all._ "Shut it, Malfoy! It's not like you're some kind of magical genius either. I wonder how proud your father would be when he hears of the 3 transfiguration classes it took you to transfigure a needle from a matchstick."

In response, Malfoy face started heating up and a nasty sneer formed on his face. "At least my father's capable of something useful, you muggle brat!"

Even for Harry, that was quite enough. Before the argument could derail further into a match of blows – he could see Lyanna advancing forward menacingly – he stepped up to Malfoy and muttered, "Pass me that remembrall before this farce goes any further. If a fight breaks out, you'd be the one punished for taunting her and taking Longbottom's stuff in the first place."

Malfoy turned angrily to Harry, ready to make a fiery retort but Harry just stonily extended his palm. Having noticed Lyanna stalking nearer and rolling up her sleeves, Malfoy grimaced and parted with the artefact, turning in the direction of the Slytherin bystanders. Harry just turned around and tossed it behind him to Lyanna, which she barely caught, startled. "See to its return."

With that parting statement, Harry silently departed the group to make better use of the now free flying lesson, leaving behind a slightly awestruck group of impressionable first years, courtesy of his film-worthy exit.

* * *

While Lyanna normally wasn't one to get riled up from taunts or the like, Malfoy had gone and done it this time. He'd insulted her father, and that wasn't something she'd take from anybody, even if it was Professor Dumbledore! He'd been halfway through his retort when Lyanna's blood started roaring in her ears. She didn't care what he'd said after that – he was going to get it the good ol' muggle way. She'd already been halfway to him when she saw their personal child celebrity step in front of the arse, muttering something. Judging by the way Malfoy's jaw tensed, the Gryffindors assumed he'd been chastised by the Potter, not that Lyanna was in any state to notice.

So she was startled out of her apparent bloodlust when Malfoy made an ugly face and stormed off to join the Slytherin side of the argument, and when Neville's Remembrall was suddenly in her face, courtesy of the already departing Potter having entrusted it to her. Lyanna was left there staring at his back for a few moments, wondering about his interference in their argument. She did know, though, that she was glad she hadn't pummeled the life out of the blond arse – she was sure she'd have gotten suspended in the least, even though he'd started it.

He was an influential pure-blood after all, and she – just a muggleborn.

But that didn't stop her from promising vengeance on Malfoy if he so much as stepped a foot out of line in front of her. Eyeing him his back as he joined the rest of the Slytherins in following the famous Potter, she stormed off to join her housemates in departing.

"Blimey! If wasn't for that Slytherin prick, I reckon we'd have seen Lyanna kick that blond ponce's arse. That'd be something." There were a few murmurs of agreement from the surrounding Gryffindors.

"You don't ever use your brain, do you, Ronald? If Lyanna had so much as touched Malfoy, she would have gotten detention for at least a month, if not been suspended! I can't believe you're cheering her on."

Lyanna, having been paying only half a mind to the conversation about the skirmish, heard Hermione's angry chastising and couldn't help but be grateful to Harry for stepping in when he did. She decided she would thank him properly when she could, hopefully away from prying ears. After dinner, then, she thought _._

She waited until the next class they had together – Transfiguration in the evening – to send him a note she'd penned down and enchanted discreetly. Since she was sitting front and centre, she wasn't able to turn around to ensure it reached him – not with Professor McGonagall right in front – but she had faith that her enchanting skills would pull through – she was within the top ranks in Charms after all.

* * *

Unfortunately for Lyanna, though her skills were undoubtedly superior to the majority of her classmates, both the facts that the charm she'd cast on her note had been self-taught and that she had hardly practised it ensured that it would fail before it reached its intended target. As if she was thinking about how her luck couldn't get any worse, the note came to an undignified stop beside Malfoy's table – he sat three seats diagonally from Harry.

Now Draco had previously been glaring at Lyanna – the undisputed cause of his current foul mood – from up high where he sat when he noticed her cast some kind of charm on a small scrap of paper that caused it to float over in – almost – his direction. He definitely wasn't above interfering in whatever scheme she'd been cooking up in his eyes – especially not when said scrap of paper landed just beside his desk! Draco only spared a moment to make sure there were no stray eyes on him before discreetly retrieving the secret note. Naturally, as curious 11-year olds are oft to do, he read it immediately.

 _Harry_

 _I wanted to thank you for stepping in when you did and berating Malfoy_

 _Meet me after dinner at the trophy room_

 _Lyanna_

Smiling nastily, Draco knew he'd struck gold with this. An opportunity to get that foul Gryffindor in trouble while getting Potter in a mess as well! Draco's minimal ill-will towards the Potter had grown enough while reading in the note how everyone else saw his interference that he saw fit to include him in his payback. Now, all that was left to do was to tip-off that – admittedly useful – squib caretaker.

* * *

Lyanna carefully and – to the best of her ability – noiselessly snuck out of her shared bedroom in Gryffindor tower to tiptoe down the stairs. She hadn't mentioned to any of her housemates – she didn't want to get reported to a prefect after all – that she was not only planning rule breaking but also to meet a Slytherin of all things! She figured she'd just have to luck it out while leaving the tower and avoiding the undoubtedly countless prefects monitoring the halls, not to mention hoping that the Fat Lady was actually in her painting on the way back in. Understandably, Lyanna was a bit excited. It was her first time actually breaking the rules – and so blatantly!

Having passed more than a few weeks in the castle, with the help of their seniors, the vast majority of the first years managed to form some sort of mental map of the castle around areas they frequented. Lyanna, having planned to meet at the trophy room earlier in the day naturally made sure to imprint its whereabouts in her mental map, and so it was without much difficulty that she made her way to the aforementioned room, anxiously awaiting Harry's arrival.

There was little light in the room, enough that the trophy cases glimmered at certain angles, but Lyanna couldn't see very clearly. The minutes crept by and her original nervousness was shifting into impatience. Once she was certain she'd been waiting for a quarter of an hour, Lyanna huffed in annoyance. That probably wasn't the best course of action; with the lack of any noticeable life save Lyanna in the vicinity, the small noise echoed in the large room.

"Sniff around, my sweet, she might be hiding in a corner." It was Filch whispering to Mrs Norris. Horrified that she was so close to trouble Lyanna turned and scurried off as silently as she could manage. Alas, in her haste to check to see he hadn't heard her, wasn't following, she missed the suit of amour perched at the turning she was heading towards. She tripped and went tumbling right into it. Panicking about all the crashing and clanging, Lyanna jumped up into a run, not turning to see whether Filch had managed to catch up, just determined to get as far away from there as she could manage.

She sprinted down one corridor, turning randomly here and there and then into another when suddenly she found herself at a dead end, facing a large, locked door. She could hear footsteps – Filch's, she was sure – not too far behind her.

"She's right up ahead, I'm sure. Little witch thinks she can prance around after curfew when I'm around? It's about time detentions become what they used to be," Filch cackled gleefully to his obedient cat, still getting closer.

Lyanna gulped, staring uneasily at the rigid door in front of her, wracking her brains about any unlocking charms she might've come across while reading ahead – she did want to excel after all! – when it finally clicked.

"A-alohomora," she squeaked, eyes widening when she heard the lock swing open. She hurriedly ensconced herself behind the door, carefully closing it so it appeared locked shut. She leaned against the wall, wiping her sweaty forehead as she hoped Filch would believe it locked. She stiffened when she heard footsteps approach haltingly.

"Where did she hide, my sweet? Sniff her out and we'll sh–" Filch's voice tapered off as the footsteps grew distant and she assumed he'd walked away.

Lyanna felt the sweet sense of relief wash over her for a few moments before she heard another noise, a sound of clanking chains deeper into the passageway she'd found herself in. Peering into the dimly lit corridor, Lyanna nearly jolted as she finally realized the presence of the clearly recently awoken furry behemoth not 20 feet away. It was a massive thing, filling up the space between the floor and ceiling once it was up. Lyanna found herself stilled as she stared up into one of the 3 pairs of widened eyes on one of the three heads of the dog – no, Cerberus she was faced with.

In that sudden moment of clarity, Lyanna knew the surprise of her entrance wouldn't save her for more than a few seconds but being a Gryffindor at heart, she decided to risk it by glancing around the massive beast, wondering what it was doing here or really what it was guarding. Spying a moderately sized trapdoor compared to the paw it was tucked underneath, Lyanna called it a victory and hightailed it out of there before one of the three heads decided she'd taste better than whatever it'd been eating.

A good while later, once she'd stumbled her way to Gryffindor tower after her terrifying escapade, Lyanna lay in bed musing at the turn of her night. She'd been expecting to meet Harry but was greeted with a sure detention in the form of their pleasant caretaker, only to end up face to face with sure death. Thinking back on it, Filch kept slipping that he knew it would only be her out there tonight. Lyanna didn't want to come to false conclusions but she didn't see how he could have known she'd be there unless he'd been told.

Sighing, she simply turned in her bed, sure that, at the very least, she wouldn't be going out of her way to talk to their local celebrity any time soon, forget about thanking him.

* * *

 **Three-Quarters Into October**

Harry was pleased to go over the simplicity of the routine he – and the rest of his year – had sunk into. He'd noticed some marked improvement in his physical fitness, sharper gains that what he'd managed over the last few years of his exercising program; it was probably related to the ambient magic suffused in the region. He'd probably already grown another centimetre or two! If nothing else, Harry was going to use that fact to its fullest. He'd been steadily waking earlier over the course of the last month as he extended his runs, often shuffling his speed and the length of the track.

Harry hadn't neglected his special magical training either. Though he still didn't deem it wise to risk his chances in the likely lethal forest around, by now he'd managed to catalogue – really just get a fair feel for – the beings he'd managed to touch with his magic. As of now, while familiar with the particular beings, Harry didn't have such precise control as to determine who or what said beings were. His ability to interact with the world around him through his raw magic was slowly developing, much like a muscle. Harry speculated he'd be able to do some very impressive things in a few years time at the rate he'd been progressing till now.

Harry had taken to spending sparser and sparser periods of time developing his Elemental abilities as, till date, he'd discovered a good portion involved with progress in the arts hinged on his creativity and imagination. He suspected he'd just simply have to wait until he figured out another particularly impressive way to use his abilities.

In the meanwhile, his explorations within the castle had not yet proved fruitful in the task he'd been attempting but he was making progress. Considering the ridiculous magical nature of the castle and its unpredictable twisting ways, Harry had determined to take his explorations from floor to floor and he'd just started his forays into the vaunted third floor. He was expecting interesting phenomena from his exploration of this floor.

Harry did wonder how much of the student body had taken it upon themselves to investigate the sparkling mystery this floor – courtesy of their wisened Headmaster, of course. He'd noticed a difference in his year's interactions since that altercation last month. Malfoy had been uncharacteristically subdued the morning after, though fortunately – for him – he'd managed not to redirect any of his anger to Harry for his swift – and reasonable – interference in the argument. Moreso, he'd noticed his Gryffindor acquaintance's similarly unexplained but fraying temper if the glares she'd sent Malfoy – and later, the next morning, him! – meant anything. Ever since, she'd been rushing about with her apparent Weasel buddy, spending a substantial amount of time in the library – and pointedly away from him (he had taken to keeping tabs on her early in the year – _she did peak my interest_ ). He didn't know what all the small differences were about but he was sure he'd find out soon enough.

~]-\\_/-[~

 **Halloween, 31** **st** **October 1991**

"Yes, I'm quite sure. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it and just go have a good time. I'm sure you guys should manage to have _some_ fun without me.…. Oh, who am I kidding? I can count the numb–"

"Shut up Potter. I don't need you reminding me of that quite so soon. Whaddya say, Daph?"

Daphne didn't respond so much as throwing the smug Potter a distasteful look that lacked any real heat, the lot of them more than used to the idiot's antics by now. Grabbing her books, she turned to face Tracey. "Well, let's give the poor child his alone-time then, shall we? It's not as if we don't care about his delicate complexion. Ooh, the wonders it does for _my_ skin….." Daphne trailed off in a wistful sigh.

Blaise just smirked from where he was waiting beside Harry before joining the rest of their little study group in departing the library, throwing Harry a sly departing line. "Don't get yourself in _too_ much trouble, alright?"

Harry just snorted silently, watching them go as he too gathered his things and set off to deposit them back in his dorm room. After a – not so – tiring day of magical education, followed up by hours of entirely unmagical – and frankly, unnecessary – revision cum completion of their blasted homework, Harry was in no mood for any sort of feast especially not the feast thrown in celebration for the murder of his parents and coincidental temporary expiry of the country's local Dark Lord problem. He decided he'd just rather spend it on a rare break – time-off the job of constantly improving himself – by taking a stroll around the castle. No matter what anybody said about Hogwarts, the castle really was magnificent – _and entirely fit my standards._

Harry paused somewhere along the way, feeling a rare inexplicable urge to gaze upon the no-doubt beautiful scene of the full moon, draped behind a sea of clouds twisted into the oddest shapes. Years later, he'd wonder how much fun Luna would've had just guessing about them. Stars twinkled brightly from the gaps between the clouds, as if winking at him, perhaps in some unknown amusement. Harry would have supposed that it would have been a premonition of sorts but he couldn't really put any stock in such a vague feeling. Still, even peeking up from a conveniently placed window from the first floor of the castle, the view was _magical_.

Harry snickered silently at the bad pun. Contrary to some's opinion – _Most certainly the Dursleys, I'm sure_ – Harry did, in fact, have some semblance of a sense of humour. He just didn't have the time or the hopeless naivety to spend too much – any, really – time on it, especially not when there were so many things to do, places to be, and Dark Lords were thrown into the mix. Sighing, Harry left his oddly comfortable perch to continue his reminiscing – of which good times in his life, nobody knew – back on the trail of his wandering path.

Idly, Harry sent his magic spiralling outwards as he'd taken to doing almost subconsciously, though notably not in the presence of either the _esteemed_ Headmaster, the questionably nervous Quirrell or their lovely Potions Professor. He didn't like that he had to watch himself so much around the three of them. Harry would much rather continue unobstructed in his efforts. _Perhaps thinning the cloud I spread until its barely noticeable, in the likeness of my 'aura' being strong enough to hang around those I spend a noticeable amount of time with._ Harry decided he'd like to ease them into the habit of dismissing his magic suffusing the air until it unnoticeable to them. That definitely sounded much better.

Unexpectedly, Harry was soon snapped out of his wandering thoughts by the distinct feeling of running student within the – rather impressive – range of his spread magic. Having had some practice before, Harry was able to single out the identities of the students. Raising an eyebrow in unhidden curiosity, Harry started to wonder what they were doing, sprinting so fast. Rather soon, though, he gave up on wondering and just decided to follow up and observe the situation, getting his curious arse into gear following behind them from a parallel corridor.

* * *

 **Fifteen Minutes Earlier**

Reaching out for another baked potato, Lyanna glanced at an empty seat at the section of the table their year normally dined at. Narrowing her eyes, she recalled hearing her gossipy roommates mentioning something about Hermione crying in the girls' bathroom, wanting to be left alone. She remembered seeing the girl stumble past her on way out of the Charms classroom earlier in the day. _It probably had something to do with her catching Ronald's entirely unnecessary and rude comment_. Her mind made up, Lyanna turned towards the rest of her housemates.

"Parvati, have you seen Hermione anywhere? It's not like her to miss such an important feast."

Lavender piped up before Parvati had the chance to reply, always eager to be included in gossip. "She's in the girls' bathroom now, should be." She leaned in conspiratorially. "I heard her crying after Charms class."

She shot a pointed glance at Ronald. He leaned back, slightly hunched over, uncomfortable with the accusing stares pointed at him.

"…. should probably check up on her after the feast," Lyanna remarked, garnering a multitude of reluctant gazes back. She noticed that only Neville, the shy one, nodded back. Lyanna sighed, wondering sarcastically about Professor McGonagall's mentions of their Houses being 'family'.

Leaning back, she distanced herself from the ongoing discussion on the table, generally unhappy with her year's attitudes. With nothing better to do, her gaze flitted around the large hall, surveying the vast majority of the students present. She paused for a moment, eyes lingering at the Slytherin table where their favourite celebrity was currently – quite noticeably – absent. It had been over a month since the incident with him standing her up and the Cerberus but she still hadn't dropped the issue, having decided not to approach him until he apologized. _Well, if he isn't going to do it, I guess it never really was a friendship at all._

She did ponder on his absence, though. _Feeling sick? Anti-social? Maybe something to do with mourning his parents' death anniversary? ….. Who am I kidding, of course, he is. I bet nobody ever really looked at it that way. It must be pretty insensitive to him, people celebrating the occasion._

Her surprisingly empathetic train of thought – in light of the fact that she was just considering how angry at the boy she was – was disturbed quite severely by Professor Quirrell's quite startling appearance in the Great Hall, what with sprinting in looking like he just saw that freaky Cerberus and all.

He followed up right to the Headmaster's chair, gulped and slumped loosely against the table. "Troll! – in the dungeons …. thought you ought to know." He then dropped to the floor in a dead faint.

As the rest of the school busied themselves in rushing to add to the growing cacophony of noise about the situation, Lyanna blankly tuned out the voices around her. _A troll. In Hogwarts, the safest place ever. Yeah, right. This is going to fun._

" – ouses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Lyanna suddenly remembered Harry's absence and, chancing a glance at the Slytherins forming up into a line, had to question the Headmaster's competence. _I mean, the Slytherin dormitories_ are _the dungeons. Great situational handling, right there._

Following the train of thought, she was reminded of their missing know-it-all, currently cocooned in a stall, probably still crying her eyes out, entirely unaware of the potential dangers lurking in the castle. Lyanna surveyed Ronald as if assessing his use in a military drill. He caught her looking and gulped unconsciously, in the way males tend to when they just know a daring female has something rather unhealthy in store for them.

Recalling what – admittedly little – she knew of him, Lyanna found him wanting. She sighed, then remembered Neville's unhesitant nod just a bit earlier where no one else was willing. The poor lad found himself the new target of her intimidating gaze. He was let up soon enough though. He must have been approved of because he was pulled out of the line Percy had been forming by the fiery girl quite abruptly.

"Neville." She said, looking him in the eye. "Hermione's alone out there – _and she doesn't know_."

"I-I…. I'm with you."

* * *

 **A Few Minutes After Harry Discreetly Joined The Party**

Neville had been living in this castle for bordering on two months now but it's a wonder what panic and adrenaline can do to one's sense of direction. He'd been running along with the fiery redhead for more than a few minutes now, certain that they were lost when he skidded to a sharp stop right behind her.

"Lyanna?" He paused to gather his breath after the strenuous physical exercise. _I've got to start working on my physical fitness._ "Is it just me o-or do you smell something weird?"

Lyanna wrinkled her nose slightly, apparently trying to catch a whiff of the scent he'd mentioned. Neville let an amused half-smile at the sight grow on his lips. He knew she had it when she froze, eyes widening in a slight panic as she locked gazes with him, the both of them realising the cause of such a stench.

They didn't have much time to form a plan or even start running before they – unfortunately – caught sight of the apparent local terror in the castle at the T-intersection at the end of their corridor. Hearing Lyanna's soft gasp, Neville had to agree. With its huge, muscled arms holding that enormously threatening club, Neville was sure the repulsive creature would have put a seasoned lumberjack to shame. He sure as shot knew he really didn't want to get in a fight with it.

They froze in position like startled rabbits, hoping it would miss the sight of them. Luckily for them, it did. Unfortunately, it continued on its path, lumbering steps echoing in the suddenly silent castle. Like the brave, stupid Gryffindors they were, the two pre-teens crept along the path until they reached the end of the passageway, spotting the hulking creature peering somewhat curiously into a doorway. Paying closer attention, Neville was horrified to see that they were looking at the door to the girls' bathroom – where Hermione was supposed to be!

He nudged the quiet girl beside him, pointing at the sign on the doorway and was rewarded by her quickened breathing. While the two of them were busy comprehending the film-worthy situation, the troll seemed to have noticed something in the bathroom and stepped inside. The teen outside didn't have to wait for more than a moment or two before the eerie silence was replaced with a shrill-sounding scream from inside the bathroom.

Neville and Lyanna caught each others' eyes and somehow managed to agree without words on their determination to rescue the hapless girl stuck with a troll inside. Taking some initiative – to his own surprise as his body moved – Neville crept up to the edge of the doorway and peeked inside. He saw the trembling girl crouched underneath one of the sinks lined up at the far side of the room, facing the troll as it tried to locate its prey within the room.

Neville flashed Lyanna an urgent gesture and the two of them edged into the room, staying along the walls. This time, Lyanna took the initiative in the high-stakes game they were playing – with their lives. She looked to Neville and pointed at the still trembling girl that was entirely unaware of their presence. Neville looked worried but he nodded hesitantly. He wasn't entirely comfortable – scratch that, he wasn't comfortable at all with the idea of leaving the first year facing a troll on her own. He assured himself that securing the victim was the first priority and set off to play his role in their daring rescue.

He was only aware of his fiery housemate in the corner of his vision as he attempted to pass the troll by sticking to the walls, moving jerkily. The dumb creature seemed to not notice his extra company as he started to approach the fallen bookworm, having already located her. As its long stride brought it closer to both himself and the housemate he was trying to rescue, Neville prayed to whoever would listen that Lyanna managed to draw the creature's attention somehow.

There was sudden noise in the oppressive silence that seemed much louder than it was, coming from where the toilets were. The troll swung its head to blink owlishly at where the noise came from, pausing mid-step. Its club smashed into a few sinks as it turned in the direction of the commotion, the debris sent rocketing around the small bathroom from the force of the blow.

"Oi! Over here, ya lump of meat!" A yell sounded in Lyanna's distinct voice.

The troll seemed to register another voice in the direction it was facing. It grunted and advanced in that same direction Neville assumed Lyanna was coaxing it, moving quicker than before. Neville guessed it was getting agitated and chose to use this opportunity to reach his rescuee.

Hermione was frozen in multitudes of shock, terror, confusion. Her mouth was stuck in a small 'O' and she wasn't responding to Neville's increasing attempts to get her out of her daze.

" – mione. HERMIONE! Get up. We've got to get out of here."

The girl seemed to snap out of her frozen shock and register Neville's unexpected yet helpful presence. She nodded timidly and got up with Neville's efforts.

"Alright, just follow me. I'll get you out of here as soon as I can," Neville murmured to the girl as he lead her out.

They paused at the doorway as more debris was flung their way, no doubt from the troll's efforts at getting their housemate. Neville wasn't sure what to do. On one hand, he'd manage to extract their rescuee from the dangerous situation, but she didn't look remotely okay. Neville didn't want to leave her like this. On the other hand, their other housemate was facing off against a full grown troll alone and Neville _definitely_ wasn't happy with that. He really just wanted to go in and help.

Hermione seemed to pick up on some of Neville's indecision, even in the state she was in herself, and opened her mouth, probably to reassure him of the right choice. She never got the chance to do it. The two pre-teens were jolted out of their silence by the sudden entry of a smooth, familiar voice.

"Go on, now. Find a Professor and get Miss Granger to the Hospital Wing. Its a priority now, isn't it, with Miss Willis alone with a troll of all things in there?" Neville wanted to interject that that was all the more reason to go in there and help her but the voice continued before he could voice his objections. "I'll go join her. You two get some help as fast as you can."

Neville paused momentarily but then faced the enigmatic Slytherin and nodded.

"Take care of her, Potter. She's risking her life for us in there."

Potter nodded back and Neville, gripping Hermione's hand a bit tighter, burst into a swift run away from the broken bathroom to get to the first Professor they could find. As the scene faded behind them, Neville vowed he'd do his best, no matter what.

* * *

Harry walked into the thrashed bathroom, surveying the damage and his opponent at the same time. Spotting Lyanna ducking around the enraged beast's wild club and just leading it around the bathroom, Harry was only mildly relieved that he couldn't see any wounds on her. _Definitely talented, this one._

He walked closer to where they were, still making no sounds and waited for the girl to pass by him. He did not have to wait for long. The troll while enraged had a much higher lethality than normal as it moved far faster and with more coordination than earlier in the skirmish, certainly not helping Lyanna's chances in the fight any. As she danced about the length of the room, she somehow managed to not notice Harry's – admittedly well-hidden – presence and so ended up in his immediate vicinity, still focused on the troll a few paces behind her. She really was just stalling for time at this point, hoping her two housemates would be able to fetch her a Professor before she was meat paste on the ground.

As Harry stealthily wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled, he was greeted with the – justifiably expected – sound of the girl in his arms' shrill scream of fright. Harry could somewhat sympathise – being grabbed from behind while facing a lethal magical creature wouldn't do anyone's nerves any good.

Ignoring the noise as it caught the lumbering beast's attention, Harry whispered in Lyanna's ear, "Shh. It's me. I'm your backup and we're getting the hell out of here. Hold on!"

Sending his magic intertwining with hers, Harry spelled her to be lighter – can't blame the guy, he just didn't have the muscle mass to bridal style the girl out of danger like a badass at 11! – and hauled ass out of there. A small, debris-filled bathroom was not what counted as an ideal location for a battle – in this situation. Luckily for him, Lyanna seemed to just accept the sudden change and bear with it like a champ, apparently unconcerned with lying in the arms of a Slytherin of all things while making a daring escape. She'd just spent the last few minutes outmanoeuvring a troll in a cramped, somewhat demolished bathroom. She really wasn't up to try outrunning it in the open too.

Unfortunately for the two of them, it seemed a 12-foot tall magical creature could, in fact, run a great deal faster than an 11-year-old wizard in free space. Harry tried to speed up, not that it really helped, hoping he'd be able to get to the end of one of the corridors they'd passed on the way there.

As the troll got closer and closer to the two pre-teens as they twisted and turned through the castle – it really was a film-worthy chase sequence – Lyanna, head perched upon our favourite celebrity's shoulder – bet that wasn't a pleasant ride – could only furrow her eyebrows as she took in their increasing desperation. The distances between them were closing rapidly and the two of them were only feet from the end of the corridor – they could see the ever-changing staircases and the floors spiralling beneath their feet; funny how distance works in magical castles, right? – when Harry detected a sudden rise in his partner's magic – he had interwoven their magic just for this! – and he glanced at her from the corner of his vision to see her intently concentrated on their pursuer, greater in intensity than ever in their classes with Professor McGonagall.

Just as they were exiting the confines of the corridor, there was a blinding flash of light and Lyanna slumped against him, her magic comfortably settled against his once again. Harry took that as his cue and concentrated on the floor beneath his feet as he continued at a high speed, racing towards the railing. There was a soft cracking sound beneath them and decisively tucked his body at an angle with Lyanna clutched tightly to him into a – surprisingly well executed, considering the circumstances – roll, just managing to avoid crashing into the railing.

In that instant, there was a sudden absence of sound. Harry – and Lyanna – were perfectly still and the troll behind them was still in motion, but it didn't – no, it couldn't extend its other foot to manage that agonising last step to reach its prey. There was, after all, a clean sheet of ice on the patch of the floor it'd just stepped on and like amateurs in an ice-skating ring – not that the two magicals there would experience the muggle creation any time soon – the troll slid forward.

Unable to stop it devastating momentum in the face of the last few feet to the much, much smaller railing ahead, the troll crashed into the oft-mentioned railing, tearing into it like a wrecking ball, and continued it eventful journey all the way to the floor – the bottom floor, six stories down.

Peering at hole the creature had left just two feet to the right of them, Harry, with Lyanna still tucked with him against the railing, turned to the ice he'd formed just moments before and dissipated it before it could be used to expose his Elemental nature to meddling old fools or conniving masquerading professors of any sort. He spared another glance at the fresh, mangled corpse below.

"Wow, even trolls get floored by my moves these days. I never knew I had it in me."

Turning then to the stunned girl gazing at him with a swirling mix of shock, curiosity and incredulity, Harry just smiled weakly.

"We need to talk."

Harry cringed.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So…. Yeah, I kicked Ron out of a main-side character role. It wasn't something I planned – it just went with the direction I'm looking to take this story. Plus, Neville feels like a more than worthy character for the role I want the Golden Trio to play.

Though I'm basing this story on Magical Origins & Harry Potter and the Elemental's Power (with Sage Ra and Shroud09 – now Mystic Arts Writer 7's approval), I won't be taking it in a remotely similar direction.

Let me know what you think of the way it's going and the POV shifts in this chapter. It's an experiment.

Also, to make up for my offensive absence for so long, expect the next chapter within the customary two weeks.

– Shiro out


End file.
